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i 



CHAXCERY SUIT! 



IN n VE ACTS 



FIRST PERFORMED AT 

THE THEATRE ROYAL. COVENT GARDEN, 

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1830. 



By B. B. PEAKE. 




BALTIMORE : 

PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. ROBINSON, 

^ Cii'culaiing Librarj and Dramatic Repository, 

1831. 









DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Sir Bernard Blazoncourt, . . Mr. Egertoi 
Frederick Blazoncourt, [his son) Mr. Abbot. 
Guy Thistlebloom, . . . .' Mr. Bartley 
Jeremy Thistl -^om, {/lis bro- 
ther, *he assumed 
nar '>^ton^ . Mr. Warde. 
Murphv ... Mr. Power. 
Snare, . . Mr. Meadow 
Winterfie. ^ Sir 

^crnu . Mr. Blanch; 

Tapsly, {^Lan. Mr. F. Mat 

Michael, ( }\'aiu Mr. Addisoi 

Ben, (a Sailor,) . >. Evans. 

Sheriff 's Officer, Fuller. 

Clerky Servants, . Habli 

Ennily .T^'avers. ..,.•»•. '\ 

Mrst P®?.t,.\(V '^fiiclxrii Sii^ 
• 'I'histlebioOin;^ ' y. 
Mrs. Snare, . . . . , . .. 
Jenn'y.,' {\E?ni(i/'<s •H'Hiti;,)' ' '. **.*• . 
Mr,<. Y\| jllowly,' , ', .' ; .:■•,.'.•,,' . . 

Miss Sallowfield, M. 

Mrs. Gravebury, Misb 

Mrs. Tapsly, Mrs. x 

Scene—^ Village on the Coast, 



THE CHANCERY SUIT. 



ACT. I. 

SCENE I.— -Room in an Inn.— The Sea-beach visi- 
ble from a nvindoiv. 

Enter Tapsly and Michael. 

Taps, Shut the door upstairs, Michael ; the Select 
Vestry are getting noisy in their cups. 

Voices, (without) Hip, hip, hip, hurrah ! 

Mich. Oh, what a cruel disturbance, sure ! 

Taps. Have you been up to the garret to your old 
Aunt Rucket ? Mrs. Tapsly says she is worse. 

Mic/i. Yes, Master ; she be near her end, I reck- 
on. You have been very kind to the poor old bed- 
ridden dame. 

Ta^is. Why, Michael, your aunt is one of my fa- 
mily, you know, and if we lose her, she will go off 
at a good wholesome old age. 

Mich, (ivijies his eyes) She was ninety-one last 
goose day ! 

Voices, {without) Hip, hip, hip, hurrah ! 

Mich. Dang it, be quiet, can't ye, — that would 
wake the devil. 

Tajis. You must take three bottles more to the 
gentlemen of the Select Vestry ; how many does that 
make ? 

Mich. Eleven of port and six of sherry, sir. 



4 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake. 

Tafis. And all for the good of the parish. 

Mich. Good for the Crown and Cushion too, mas- 
ter. [ Exit. 

Tafis. (loo^s q^y) Eh ! a postchaise come in! take 
care of the luggage there ; this way, sir, if you 
please. 

Enter Jeremy Thistlebloom. 

Jeremy. I must have a bed here to-night. 

Ta/is. Yes, sir. — Chambermaid, light a fire in No. 
6 ; the chimney may smoke a little at first, sir, but 
it will soon go off. [jKxzV. 

Jeremy. Smoky chimney ! I have just arrived from 
London smoke. — So, Mr. Jeremy Thistlebloom, term 
being over, this is your first visit to your native vil- 
lage for these thirty years! — no one will recognise 
me ; a multiplicity of daily practice in the Courts 
has changed my once ruddy countenance to a pale 
legal physiognomy: and then, instead of the air and 
exercise to which I was formerly accustomed, the 
only air I have inhaled has been that of Westminster 
Hall : sometimes, for change of air, Guildhall. And 
as for exercise, rising to address the Jury, sitting 
down again, and walking in a perspiring gown and 
wig between the doors of the Common Pleas and 
King's Bench. 

Ta/is. {ivithout) But I assure you, Mr. O'Doggrely. 

O'Bog-. {without) And I assure you, Mr. Crown 
and Cushion. 

Tafis. {entering) There is a gentleman in the 
room, sir. 

O^Dog" {entering) And now there are two gentle- 
men in the room, sirrah, leaving yourself out. {bows 
to Jeremy,) Your most obedient, sir. {to Ta/isly.) 
Ah! won't I have you down for this.^ {shows a small 
viemorandum book.) 

Tafis. I'm sure I beg your pardon, Mr. O'Doggrely, 

O'Dog. When it is too late, sir. Another time, 
beg my pardon before you commit the offence. So, 



Act I.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 5 

you have had a Select Vestry sitting and gormandi- 
zing in your house. I counted seventeen empty bot- 
tles, and a number of picked drumsticks of fowls; 
I'll not put up with this ; pretty doings ! You may 
go, Mr. Tapsly. 

Tails, (aside) Curse his Irish impudence. [Exil, 

O'Dog. {offers box) A pinch of genuine lundy-foot, 
sir, — I feel myself, in duty bound, compelled to keep 
the folks in this place a little in order. 

Jeremy. You, i dare say, are quite in the right, 
Sir ; but I am not aware that I deserve the honour 
of your confidence. 

O'Dog. I'll be bail you'll deserve it, sir. For the 
well-doing of this village, I am appointed by myself 
unanimously. Inspector General from the Lord of 
the Manor's mansion, down to the Purveyor of asses 
milk's pigsty ! 

Jeremy, {aside) An eccentric, or a swindler, — (io 
O'JDog) But now I look again, I think I have seen 
you somewhere? 

O'Dog. Yes, I often go there. 

Jeremy. I am sure I have seen your face before. 
Pardon my enquiry, — were you not, some three 
years since, defendant in a case of libel in the Court 
of King's Bench ? 

G'Dog. Of which I was honourably acquitted. 
Och I that I should not recollect you again, without 
your gown and tails, for the individual and intellec- 
tual barrister who pleaded my cause and got me off, 
•—Mr.— Mr. — Mr. 

Jeremy. Mr. Courtington. 

O'Dog. Mr. Courtington, — welcome, sir. If you 
are making any stay in these parts, I can show you 
the way to the principal houses here — the Blazon- 
courts, the Thistleblooms, the Murgatroyds, and the 
Griffinses. 

Jeremy, You are acquainted with Mr Thistle- 
bloom ? 



6 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake. 

0*Dog. Intimately ! the old Squire is as kind heart- 
ed an oddity as ever lived. He has a charming little 
female orphan under his protection, one Miss Emily 
Travers. 

Jeremy. Ah ! Ca/iart.J — I am glad to ascertain 
that. 

O'Dog. Beautiful creature, amiable, lovely, and in 
want, (aside ) like myself. Sir, i wrote this on her; 
f takes out book.J 

" Oh happy the man loving Emily Travers, 
If but in return, he could possibly have hers." 

Jeremy. Humph ! don't see much in that. 

O^Dog. That is because you are not acquainted 
with family aifairs. Squire Thistlebloom, many 
years ago, had a serious quarrel with his younger 
brother, an ill-looking, cross grained, caustic sort of 
fellow, as I am told ; he took hirrself off in a huff, 
to seek his fortune, and has never been heard of 
since. 

Jeremy. Well ! what is all this to me ? 

O^Dog. Nothing, whatever; excepting my assidu- 
ity in making the neighbourhood known to you. If 
you are for seeing Blazoncourt Castle, I'll get you a 
peep. Sir Bernard Blazoncourt is as austere as a 
cock vulture ; but his son, Mr. Frederick, is an ex- 
cellent young gentleman, who occasionally honours 
me by laughing at my jokes ; the worse the joke, the 
louder he laughs. If every audience followed the same 
example, how we modern dramatists v/ould thrive ! 

Jeremy, {aside) I may obtain all information from 
this Hibernian magpie. 

O'Dog. Have you dined, Sir .-* 

Jeremy. No, I was about to order dinner. 

O'Dog. Leave that to me. I know this house 
better than you do, Sir. 

Jeremy, You are very kind, but I will not trouble 
you. 



Act 1.1 THE CHANCERY SUIT. 7 

0*Dog. No trouble at all, {rings bell) You like 
fish ? We are famous for soles here. 

Enter Michael. 

Jeremy. Send your master. 

Mich. Why as to that, if the gentleman there 
wishes 

O'Dog. {takes out his book) The rhyme for '* wai- 
ter" is " traitor," urn — um. {Pretends to write.) 

Mich. Oh! stop, Sir. Master will behere directly. 

[Exit has till/. 

Jeremy, {ajiart) Of what profession is this person;*, 
he alarms every body by the mere sight of his red 
book. Must be the tax-gatherer. 

Re-enter Tapsly. 

O'Dog. Some fried soles, {to Jeremy) — You said 
you liked soles? a couple of roasted chickens and 
an apple tart. 

Jeremy. An excellent little dinner. 

O^Dog. Leave me alone, Sir; and d'ye hear, Taps- 
ly, a bottle of the capital Port wine you purchased 
of Mr. Simpkin. 

Tapsly. \ — I purchased Port of Mr. Simpkin.-* 

O'Dog. {whis/iers to Ta/isly) Yes; the wine you 
bought of the butler, who was dismissed from St. 
Bernard Blazoncoun's. No reply. It is all down 
here, {shoivs book). Where's your wife ? I'll see 
the cloth laid myself; out with the best spoons and 
forks, for you've got a rale gentleman in the house. — 
{to Jeremy.) Excuse me a moment, Sir. [Exit. 

Jeremy. Humph ! and pray, who may that exceed- 
ingly officious person be ? 

Tapsly. He is the pest of this village : the whole 
neighbourhood are afraid of him. 

Jeremy. Is he countenanced by the resident 
sentry ? 



8 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake. 

Tafisly. He would out-countenance any of them. 
He has made his way into all the families, some say 
by his pleasantry, others, by his impudence ; he 
pokes his nose into every person's secrets, and turns 
them to his own uses. 

Jeremy. What is the meaning of that little red 
book he carries ? 

Tafisly. By that he regulates (as he calls it) the 
affairs of the neighbourhood. 

Jeremy. A village Solon ! 

Tafisly. A plaguy impudent, presuming, good for 
nothing 

Re-enter O'Doggrely unseen /5y Tapsly ; fiats 
his back. 

O^Dog. My dear fellow, don't be after praising 
yourself. Modesty is a beautiful quality in man. 
Tafisly. [aside) Ahem ! the devil. 
O'Dog". fivrites iji his book, and reads aloud. ) 

" If a thing that is stolen is sweetest, 
Then Simpkin's Port is the neatest. 
And Tapsly, a rogue the completest." 

[Exit Tafisly, hastily. 

O'Dog. That was not in his line at all ? 

Jeremy. An oddity ! — Sir, having taken the trou- 
ble to be my caterer, perhaps you will favour me 
with your company to dinner ? 

O'Bog-. With great pleasure, Sir. I'll dine with 
you out of gratitude. 

Jeremy. Gratitude! 

(fDog. Yes .; because you got me out of the libel 
case. 

Jeremy. But I have a curiosity to ascertain how 
you contrive to keep this house and the neighbour- 
hood in such order ? 

0*Dog. Very easily. Sir. By the mere force of 
ridicule— ridicule,— a mighty engine, if properly ap- 



Act I.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 9 

plied. All the sensible folks of the place (whom I 
never dared to lampoon) say, that I am of more ser- 
vice in repressing scandal, destroying petty tyranny, 
and diminishing petty larceny, than tin acts of par- 
liament Gould possibly be. 

Jeremy. What first put this into your bead ? 

O'Dog. With the frankness of an Emerald Island, 
er, ril tell you. Devil a soul did I know when I ar- 
rived here, and had no means of an introduction. 
One day I was walking outside Blazoncourt Castle, 
when I perceived two little wags of boys chalking 
these words on the wall : 

" Large park and no deer, 
Large cellar and ho beer, 
My Lord Skinflint lives here.'* 

Jeremy. What had that to do with it ? 

O'Dog. Every thing. Between ourselves, the 
house-keeping of Blazoncourt Castle was known to 
be rather shy. "Large park and no deer" was in 
every urchin's mouth. Now mind, a week after this, 
the lines were obliterated. An ox was roasted whole 
on the lawn, and a hogshead of ale muddled all the 
heads in the village. *'Oh, ho ! is it there ;" rumi- 
nated I. " Here's a grand transmogrification effect- 
ed by the mere force of a ridiculous triplet." My 
eyes were opened, my stomach was empty. I put 
some satirical lines together; first boldly lampoon- 
ed the attorney, one " Mr. SnarCy" who I found 
out was very "/bwr/ of a hare.'' Succeeded: got 
invited to dinner. Have carried every pouit by 
a pen with very little point ever since, and am 
the most useful and esteemed member of the com- 
munity. 

Jeremy. It must require some skill to avoid giving 
offence ? 

O'Dog. Therein consists my ingenuity; but come, 
Mr. Courtington, and o\ er a bottle of Tapsly's best 



10 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake. 

Simpkins's BlazoncouitPort, I'll detail the history of 
the whole village. [^Exeunt. 



SCENE II. — The Library in Blazoncourt Castle', Sir 
Bernard '&lazoi^cq\jkt discovered with Letters at 
a Table, 

Sir Be.r. Claim upon claim : importunate creditors! 
and yet if more timber is fallen, the busy tongues of 
the neighbourhood will proclaim my poverty. If 
that suit in Chancery were ended ! but how .«* Stifle 
conscience, the deed is done, the bolt is forged. 
Forged! — blistered be my tongue for the utterance 
cf that word. ( looks round.) Reflection away! — 
money must be raised, — more mortgage, f rings bell. J 
The splendour of the House of Blazoncourt shall 
not be dimmed. 

Enter Winterfield. 

Ah I Winterfield : have you dispatched one of the 
grooms to Mr. Snare ? 

mnter, I think I did. I believe I did, Sir Bernard. 

Sir Ber. You think you did — old man, your servi- 
ces are becoming useless to me. 

If inter. Pardon, gracious Master, the infirmity of 
your aged domestic ; I fear my memory fails me. 

Sir Ber. So I perceive, to my torment: did I not 
tell you that James was to answer the bell ? 

Winter. In sooth, I forgot to tell James that. It is 
not the young man's fault, but my misfortune. 

Sir Ber. Go now at once, whilst your recollection is 
fresh, and discover if Mr Snare, my solicitor, has 
been sent for } 

Winter. Yes, yes, Sir Bernard. 

Sir Ber. Quick — old man. 

Winter. Oh yes, Sir Bernard. (A tap at the door, 
llinterjield ofiens it, enter Mr. Snare. J Now, I re- 
collect, Sir Bernard, I did send for Mr. Snare, two 
hours ago. Mr. Snare, Sir Bernard! [Exit, 



Act I.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 11 

Sir Ber. (aside.) It is well for me that the do- 
tard's memory is gone ? 

Snare. You sent for me, Sir ? 

Sir Ber. Mr. Snare, here are letters of immediate 
consequence ; the long delayed Chancery suit is now- 
likely to terminate, the result of which will place 
the Woodburn Estate and eighteen years' accumula- 
tions of the rents into my possession. 

Snare. So, Sir, we have every reason to hope ; but 
the glorious uncertainty — hew! 

Sir Ber. Do not pester me with your doubts, Sir. 
The case is clear: — have I not the strongest proof of 
the illegitimacy of Emily Travers, the other claim- 
ant to the property ? 

Snare. Certainly, Sir. 

Sir Ber. Is it not recorded in her father's own hand- 
writing ? — In a few weeks, these large domains must 
inevitably be mine. Now, Mr. Snare, my immediate 
ol^ect with you is, that you, without loss of time, 
must raise me three thousand pounds. 

Snare. Will you condescend, Sir Bernard, to name 
the securities on which this sum is to be advanced ? 

Sir Ber. Will not the name of Blazoncourt, Sir — ? 

Snare. Sir, the name is of that respectability, that 
—I have the most profound respect for it — but the 
whole estate is mortgaged to its uttermost value. I 
know but of one immediate method of raising the 
money, if you would permit it ? 

Sir Ber. Proceed. 

Snare. If you would consent to my application to 
the worthy and wealthy Mr. Thistlebloom ^ 

Sir Ber. How dare you, who know me, offer such 
an insult > Before I could stoop to ask favour of that 
hated upstart, I would wish myself a breathless 
corpse. 

Snare, (trevibling.) Sir Bernard, I had no inten- 
tion to — 

Sir Ber. The very name irritates me. Is not Mr. 
Thistlebloom the means of supporting the dilatory 
Chancery Suit, preventing my possession of the 



12 THE CHANCERY SUIT. {Peake. 

Woodburn Estate ? Does he not protect the minion, 
Emily Travers ? I would give a thousand pounds, 
if that girl could be removed from the neighbour- 
hood. 

Snare. Indeed, sir Bernard! — I hope I could con- 
trive it for less than that. 

Sir Ber. How ! speak. 

Snare. Every man has his weak point. Now, [ 
own contrivance to be one of my week points. Miss 
Emily Travers is defendant in the Woodburn Chan- 
cery Suit. I will find some little flaw, some little 
loop-liole by which we can make it appear she has 
incurred the penalty of contempt of Court. 

Sir Ber. Ay ? 

Snare. If I can contrive that, we shall have her 
snugly locked up in the Fleet Prison. 

Sir Ber. Remove her hence, and depend on my 
lasting favour ; but this money must be sought. I, 
have plate, pictures, library ; you know the vahie, 
lose no time— go. 

Snare. I will endeavour to obey your wishes. Good 
morning. Sir Bernard, (boivsj — How plentiful the 
pheasants are in your shrubberies! — f aside ) dear 
me ! with a little gravy and bread sauce I — don't take 
the hint — I've earned my thirteen and four-pence, I 
think. [Exit. 

Sir Ber. That hireling, for his interest's sake, will 
not betray his trust, (look at letters J What I are 
traders and mechanics to reproach the representa- 
tive of an ancient House? — insolence! — and yet, ac- 
cursed fate impels me to their power, exposes me to 
their scolFs. 

Enter Frederick. 
Ha! Frederick—what sport to-day ^ 
Fred. Not a shot, sir. 
Sir Ber. You are out of spirits. 
Fred. I own I am depressed, sir, — ^my thoughts 
ever revert to one painful subject. 



Act. I.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 13 

SirBer. Ah, what may that be ? 

Fred. Pardon, sir. I have for some time past been 
impressed with the melancholy idea that — {hesitates) 

Sir Ber. Speak, Frederick. 

Fred. That your affairs are in a state of embar- 
rassment ! 

Sir Ber, Who has told you this, sir ? 

Fred. On my honour, no one. Forgive me, my 
dear father, but I have daily watched your anxious 
eye, your mental torment, and the quivering of your 
parched lip. Some secret fatal to your peace is un- 
dermining your health. I behold a vast expendi- 
ture ; I have noticed the noble oaks, the pride of 
our park, falling to the ground under the woodman's 
axe ! 

Sir Ber. Peace, Frederick ; and learn that your 
near and dear connexion to me gives you no right to 
investigate my affairs or to pry into my secret 
thoughts. Let it suffice you to hear that I am not 
yet reduced to the poverty you conjecture,— that I 
am rich, inexhaustibly rich ! 

Fred. Your word is ever sacred to me ! pardon my 
inconsiderate enquiry. {Sir Bernard gives him his 
hand) I— I had intended, sir, to address you on ano- 
ther subject — your advice on the choice of a profes- 
sion. 

Sir Ber. A profession ! Let those who are not pos- 
sessed of an honourable and ancient title, and of a 
noble estate, seek professions. The heir of the 
House of Blazoncourt will not be under the necessity 
to toil for bread. In the mean time, Frederick, 
though I do not wish to control your actions, it will 
gratify me if you will hold yourself with more re- 
serve to the family of Mr. Thistleblocm. I have a 
just and rooted objection to them. Adieu, my son ! 
{looks at letters) Yes, the splendid liveries will arrive 
on Wednesday ; the suite of rooms on the north wing 
are to be superbly refitted, preparatory to the visit 



14 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IFeake. 

of the Duke. And, Frederick, you are not forgot- 
ten, — your new phaeton and greys, your father's gift, 
are probably now on the road from London. {Exit* 
Fred, I am astounded ; how could I have been so 
mistaken, — how ridiculous must I have appeared ! — 
Adieu, blue devils ! — I'll knock down the birds again 
ha ! ha ! ha ! Now 1 may burn my literary attempt, 
(the employment of many a solitary hour!) I dare 
not offend Sir Bernard's notions of dignity by letting 
him know that I had written a Comedy — a Comedy 
complete in all but the title : I trembled at my fa- 
ther's allusion to the Thistleblooms. Had he con- 
jectured the real cause of my visits there — to gaze at 
my adored Emily, to sigh, — plague ! I shall lose my 
spirits again. Hey for my new phaeton and gallant 
greys '• [Exit. 

SCENE III — Garden of Blazoncourt Castle — an Ar" 
bour. 

Enter O'Doggrely. 

0*Dog. V faith, that Mr. Courtington the barrister 
is a shrewd old boy ; he discovered, that though the 
planets have neglected to shine prosperously on me, 
I was a Trinity-man, and a gentleman born. Now, 
Where's Mr. Frederick, whose confidant I have the 
honour to be ? Old Courtington wants a few mi- 
nutes' conversation with him. 

Enter Frederick. 

Fred. Ah ! O'Doggrely. 

O^Dog. Pray, sir, what are your movements to be 
to-morrow ? do you intend to go shooting or love- 
making, — do you mean to be a Leveret killer, or a 
Lady-killer ? I like that conceit. 

*' Will your honour kill a hare 
Or will you visit lady fair?" 

Fred. A truce to your rhymes, sir, — carry them to 
the bellman. 



Act I.J THE CHANCERY SUIT. 15 

O'Dog. " Carry them to the belhnan, 

You've said a pretty think ; 
r I'll take them to your belle^ man, — 
A belle that wants a ring. " 

Fred, I will not have any jesting on that subject. 
fAfiart) Before I destroy the product of my fancy, 
I feel the petty vanity of an Author to ascertain if 
my Comedy has merit in the opinion of another. I 
will request O'Doggrely to read it — he has written 
for the Stage. — Hark'ye, collegian, I think well of 
your liter^y taste, — I wish to ask your ideas on a 
particular subject? 

O'Dog. Name your subject, and I will overflow 
you with ideas. Byron has aptly remarked that an 
Irishman with a little whiskey in his head is the 
most imaginative being in existence.— I've had a drop. 

Fred. First, I must demand your secrecy ? 

O'Dog. Oh— honour! 

i^rec?. Know then, to amuse my vacant hours, that 
I have attempted to write a Comedy. You smile. 

O^Dog. One ought to smile at a Comedy, particu- 
larly if it is sentimental. 

Fred. 1 have interspersed a little sentiment, — what 
else can you do with your heroine ? 

O'Dog. Make her an Irishwoman, and give her a 
little whiskey. 

Fi'ed. The dramatic authors of the present day 
are abused for their inferiority to their predecessors, 
justly on the score of wit ; but I apprehend that the 
public of the present day would decry in a modern 
production the intrigue, the double-entendre^ and the 
display of vice which may have been embodied in 
the originals from which the female characters were 
formerly drawn. Now, I have chosen a model of 
beauty, virtue and simplicity, for my heroine. 

F?iter Sir Bernard and Snare at the back, 
unseen. 

Fred. What think you of Miss Emily Travers } 
O'Dog, Charming! 
Fred. Exquisite! 



16 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake' 

O^Dog-, Milk-punch is nothing to her. 

Fred. Pshaw! To answer the purpose for which I 
own an irresistible impulse — I will confide in you — I 
have made use of her character. 

Sir Ber. fapart) How ! f retires to arbour^ fol- 
lowed by Snare, listening-. J 

Fred. I took her as I found her, — lovely, interest- 
ing, open-hearted. Now, my dear O'Doggreiy, you 
see how much I rely on your secrecy in this affair ; 
if it was to reach the ears of my father, I should be 
ruined. 

Sir Ber. (ajiart) Indeed ! 

Fred. You know, for some reasons which I cannot 
explain, he entertains a dislike to the poor young 
lady. 

0*Dog. That's not entertaining at all! he is too 
ould for his gallantry now. 

Fred. Well, in the hope of throwing a little more 
spirit into my dialogue, I certainly have, I own, ta- 
ken some liberties with her character, but this was 
to aid my plot! 

Snare, {afiart) His plot! 

O^Dog. Och, by the hooky ! if Sir Bernard catches 
you plotting! {laughs.) 

Fred. Listen I I have represented my little he- 
roine—— 

O'Dog. That's your Emily Travers, you mean. 

Fred. Hush ! I have represented her as an op- 
pressed creature, but, with the mild dignity of her 
manner, overturning the schemes of a powerful op- 
ponent and his rascally legal agent. 

Snare, (a/iart) That is libellous. 

0*Do£c. 1 hope you have put nervous language into 
her mouth ; 

Fred. I have; to upho!d her just rights and to 
create the utter confusion of her unprincipled en* 
cmies ! 

Sir Ber. Cafiart) Do I hear correctly ? 

0*Dog. If you love me, don't spare the lawyer, 
or the big rogue his employer. 



Act I.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 17 

Snare, fafiart) D*ye hear that ? 

O'Dog. On the score of poetical justice, the whole 
house will go with you. 

Fred. I have not yet done that, but I intend to 
load tnem both with opprobriunm, and expose them 
to infamy. 

Sir Ber. (a/iart) Furies ! what does he contem- 
plate ? 

Fred, (looks round) Hush! what was that ? 

0*Dog. Nothing ! Listeners never hear any good 
of themselves, so never mind. 

Fred. I am puzzled by what name to call my bold 
attempt. 

O'Dog" There is certainly a title wanted. 

Fred. Yes : the title is wanted, and that is very 
essential ; come this way. Sir Bernard will now be 
taking his evening walk in the garden. — Come, and 
I will put you in possession of all I have as yet done 
in this matter — ha ! ha ! How the world will stare, if 
I should succeed ! 

O'Dog". You must keep your name concealed, be- 
cause of the newspapers, you know. 

Fred. That would at once reveal it to my father. 
You shall hear the rest — •' thereby hangs a tale." 

O'Dog. You will be applauded to the skies for this 
your maiden effort ; but lay it on the confounded 
lawyer and his patron as thick and as hot as mus- 
tard, my dear fellow. 

[Exeunt Frederick and O'Doggrely, 

Sir Bernard and Snare come forward* 

Snare. Pretty doings, Sir Bernard ! 

Sir Ber. Frederick a traitor to his father, treatmg 
the matter with such levity, and with such a confi- 
dant — he named Emily Travers, her powerful oppo- 
nent. 

Snare. And his rascally legal agent. 

2* 



18 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IFeake, 

Sir Ber. How has Frederick discovered that the 
title is wanted ? 

Snare. I cannot divine, sir; at any rate, we must 
take time by the forelock, and endeavour to place 
Miss Travers in safe custody. Lay it on the lawyer 
as hot as mustard, — well, well, the lawyer must go 
to work then. 

Sir Ber' Away, Snare ! be cautious and diligent. 

{Exit, 

Snare' Miss Emily shall be a prisoner of the War- 
den of the Fleet before to-morrow night — rascally a- 
gent, indeed! 

Re-enter O'Doggrely with a manuscript in his 
hand. 

O^Dog. A title wanted— wanted a title, we'll call 
it " Rascality or Rum and Robbery.''* Oh, for a ti- 
tle, a good title, {sees Snare) Och, old vinegar vi- 
sage! y Exit running. 

Snare. Turn out that mad Irishman. {Exit, 

END OF ACT I. 



ACT^II. 

SCENE \,—An Antichamber in Thistlebloom Hall. 
Enter Y.'^w.y followed by Jenny. 

Emily. Jenny, Jenny ! 

Jenny. I am here, Miss. 

Emily. Have I been enquired for in the drawing- 
room ? 

Jenny. No, miss; the ladies are playing at cards. 
Mrs. Snare and Mrs. Post wrangling, as they always 
do when they have a friendly evening together. 

Emily. And Mr. Thistlebloom ^ 



Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 19 

Jenny. The Old Gentleman has dropt off to 
sleep. 

Emily. Old Gentleman! You are too familiar, 
Jenny. 

Jenny. You can't deny he is old, miss ; and I know 
from my Christmas boxes that he is a Gentleinan ; 
so Where's the harm in calling him the Old Gentle- 
man ? 

Emily. Well, have you been to the farm ? Any 
l^ter, my good girl ? 

Jenny, {giving a note from her fiocket.) There it 
is, miss. What, miss, an't you going to read it now ^ 

Emily. Why should I read it now ? 

Jenny. I don'c know ; but somehow I like to look 
at you when you read Mr. Frederick's letters. 

Emily. On your life, Jenny, be silent. I have 
trusted you more than ever mistress did her maid. 

Jenny. And I am proud to say, that I have been 
more faithful than ever maid was to mistress. Pray 
read the note, miss. 

Emily. To oblige yow, Jenny, I will, (o/iens and 
reads.) 

Jenny, {obsei-ving Emily) Ah, ah ! I thought how 
it would be ; the colour comes into her cheek like a 
carnation. She smiles, she sighs, she reads a line 
over again ; a l|ear starts in her eye ; she kisses the 
letter, and is as happy as a bird, {takes out handker^ 
chtef\) Oh, it is catching— thank ye, miss. 

Emily. Why do you thank me, Jenny ? 

Jenny. O, Miss, it is as good as a lesson to see you. 
I shall know how to deport myself when I receive a 
note from my own true love ; and I shall have one 
soon, miss; my dear Dicky is learning to write. 

Emily. Hush ! I must return to the drawing-room. 

Jenny. Stay one moment, miss; the ladies are 
wrapped up in their cards, and won't ask for you. I 
wonder wny Mr. Frederick don't go down on his 
knees to the crusty old Barrow Knight, his father, 
and say what he wants. I'll warrant me, you 



20 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peakc. 

wouldn't find much difficulty in persuading your 
guardian, Mr. Thistlebloom. 

Emily. Impossible ! I am peculiarly situated. Mr. 
Thistlebloom is a most eccentric character — kind, 
yet suddenly irritable ; and if circumstances permit- 
ted that I could disclose my secret to him, he would 
in all probability burst into laughter in my face. 

Jenny, Ah! that is his odd way, miss; I have 
seen him in the midst of a merry tale with the tears 
trickling down his strawberry cheeks. 

Emily. Mr. Thistlebloom has the singular habit 
of not appreciating that which is said to him at the 
moment. 

Jenny. He never laughs at a joke until ten minutes 
after it is uttered. 

Emily. Nor expresses pity for distress, until he 
has had time to reflect on it ; but I shall be missed 
at the tea-table. Jenny, {fioints to letteVy) be cau- 
tious. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. — Drawing-room at Thistlebloom's. — 
A Card-table^ round which are seated Mrs. 
Snare, Mrs. Post, Mrs. Willowly, Miss Sal- 
LOwFiELD, Mrs. Gravebury ; — Guy Thistle- 
bloom asleep, in an arm chair with a handkerchief 
over his head: Tea table at the back^ servants in 
attendance. 
Mrs. Snare. It is quite provoking, Mrs. Post, — 

Pam again ! 

Mrs. Post. Fortune favours me. 

Mrs. Snare, Particularly — ha ! ha! — there was an 

adage that 'they who were unlucky at cards were 

happy in their matrimonial speculations.'— (rtszc/e to 

Miss Sallowjield) Mr. Post has been dead these ten 

years. 

Mrs. Post. Shall I trouble you to put in your loo 

and deal, instead of talking, Mrs. Snare ^ 

Mrs Jfillow. I declare Mr. Thistlebloom is asleep! 
Mrs. Post, Indeed.-* Emily, dear, where is Emily.^ 



Act I.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 21 

Enter Emily. 

It is quite shocking that he, the only gentleman in 
the room, shouM sit snoring there, in company with 
six females. , 

Emily. It is a pity to wake hitn ; he has been in 
exercise the whole day. 

Mrs. Snare. Then a little nap may make him a- 
greeable. 

Mrs. Post' {to Emily) Mr. Thistlebloom will scold 
you for lukewarm tea. 

Emily, {taps his shoulder) Sir, sir, — Mr. Thistle- 
bloom. 

Thistle, {half asleefi) Throw him into the horse- 
pond, neck and heels ! 

Mrs, Post, {rising and apart to Emily) Wake my 
brother at once, Emily, for he is apt to utter the 
strangest words in his sleep, and we have the cler- 
gyman's lady here' 

Emily, (shakes him gently) My dear sir- 

Thistle. Give me my whip, {ivaking) Hey, hallo ! 
bless me ! have I been napping, eh ^ 

Mrs. Snare. Why, my good Mr, Thistlebloom, 
whereabouts is your gallantry } 

Thistle. I'faith, Madam, I believe it is about fifty- 
nine years of age, and a little the worse for wear. 

Mrs. Snare. How could you sleep, whilst we were 
talking ? 

Thistle I was dreaming of a water-mill. 

Mrs. Post. Will you join our round game, brother? 

Thistle. Not by any manner of means, I hate cards, 
they send me to sleep. 

Emily. Some tea, sir ^ 

Thistle. By all manner of means — like tea — keeps 
me awake ! 

Emily, (handing him a cufi) How did you find the 
unfortunate cottager to-day, sir, whom your humani- 
ty led you to visit — poor Gilbert, who broke his 
arm, and has an invalid wife and numerous family } 



22 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Feake. 

Thistle. HslI ha! ha! fsi/is tea^ and bursts out 
laughing at intervals J Ha '• ha! ha ! 

Mrs. Snare. Well I should have thought that no 
laughing matter. 

Mrs. Post, My brother is laughing at the last joke 
he thought of, before he went to sleep. 

Thistle, Ha! ha! ha! ha! I met the Irish poet, 
O'Doggrely. He was expecting a letter from Dub- 
lin, — ha ! ha ! ha ! — the postman was an hour beyond 
his time. You know how O'Doggrely keeps folks in 
order. Instead of saying to the postman, " You ras- 
cal ! — what makes you so late ?" out comes his little 
red book, — ha ! ha ! ha ! The postman turned pale, 
and O'Doggrely wrote, — ha! ha! ha! — I shan't for- 
get the joke if I was to live a hundred years, — he 
wrote, — ha! ha! ha! 

" I wish that our letter man 
Would turn out a better man! 
For I must say at most. 
He's as dull as a Post." 

Ha! ha! ha! 

Mnter Jenny, introducing O'Doggrely. 

Jenny, Mr. O'Doggrely, sir. 

Thistle, Talk of the devil— well ! 

0*Dog. Ladies, your servant. Mr.^Thistleblocm, 
yours. 

Thistle. Well, any thing new, — any thing new in 
the little red book ? 

G*Dog. O, I've a subject: a Select Vestry have 
been feeding to-day at the tavern ; every man Jack 
shall hear of it to-morrow. It shall be sung under 
their windows by a chorus of half-starved paupers ! 
I've touched them off. I've a remarkably clear head. 

Mrs. Snare- {afiart) Yes — nothing in it — 

O'Dog. freads fio?n/iously) 



Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 23 

1 " Aid me, ye Nine, to abuse the Select Vestry ! 

\ They'd no thoughts for the poor, though they had for 

' the pastry. 

1 hey closed up the doors, and they closed up their 
hearts, 

And met to discuss— fowls, fish, flesh, and tarts." 

Thistle, (sighs) Ah! 

O'Dog. Ah ! why is that ah } 

Thistle. Poor Gilbert ! there he lay with his arm 
in a spHnter, his pallid wife gazing on him in acute 
distress, while the little hungry children were cry- 
ing around the bed for food, {takes out handkerchiefs 
and wee/is) Pshaw ! Ladies, mind your game at 
cards ; I am an old fool ! 

£inily. Dear sir ! such feelings do honour to hu- 
man nature. 

O'Dog. Philanthropy is the prettiest of virtues. — 
I'll make a powerful impression on him by compas- 
sionate eloquence — speaking of charity, sir,— when 
Scipio Africanus was in the zenith of his glory, he — 

Thistle, {chuckles) Ha! na! ha! {continues to 
laugh) Pastry and vestry ! hearts and tarts ! ha ! ha! 
ha! 

Mrs. Snare. Mrs. Post, it is unbearable ! 

Mrs. Post. Mrs. Snare, I request you to be less 
intemperate ! {altercation at table) 

O'Dog. Faith, there's an insurrection among the 
Tabbies. 

Mrs. Snare » I play no more, {rising from table) 
No : I have expressed my conviction of the fact. If 
you have a penchant for losing your money — good. 
I never will sit down to cards with a certain person 
here, again. 

Thistle. Hey, hey, ladies ! what is the matter > 

Mrs. Snare. Your sister, sir, can best explain. 

Thistle. Sister, Mrs. Post, what is it } 

0*Dog. {aside) Post turns a deaf ear ! 

Thistle. Will somebody explain ^ {altercation be- 
tween all the ladies) 



24 THE CHANCERY SUIT. {Peake. , 

Emily. Listen to reason. | 

O'Dog. \aside) Five Tabbies, and expect anyr^ 
reason! I will reduce them to order, {takes out his\ 
hooky and iilaces himself in the groufi. They are im~ ] 
mediately silent. He ivrites ivith his Jiencil) "Tab- 
bies, — rabies!" 

Thistle, Silence is obtained. Mrs. Willowly, I 
beg I may be immediately informed what has hap- 
pened. 

Mrs. Willow. My friend Mrs. Snare has avowed it, 
and I am bound to believe her. Good night, sir. ; 

[CurtsieSy and Exit, 

Thistle, Avowed what — avowed what — what the 
devil has she avowed ? Will no one answer ? Mrs. 
Gravebury, madam, I entreat — I — 

Mrs. Grave, {curtseying formally') I have the 
honour to wish you a very good evening, sir. {Exit, 

Thistle. There are certain lengths to which a man 
may strain his temper, or his patience; but, fire and 
fury, the devil and Doctor Faustus, I will know the 
meaning of this disagreement in my own house. 
Miss Sallowfield, I insist upon your expounding the 
riddle. 
{Miss Salloivfield fioints to the card-table^ mournfully 

exhibits an emfity purse ^ jiuts her handkerchief to 

her eyesy and exit,) 
Are they all poisoned, or all mad, or all — ^no, they 
have had nothing but tea. Sister, you once was a 
woman of sense. 

Mrs. Post. Do I live ? can I live under such impui- 
tation ! Oh ! oh ! oh I (hysterically.) Snare, Snare, 
Snare, Snare. 

Mrs, Snare, Yes, 'twas /did it ; and that was the 
last game of cards I shall ever play in this house. 

[Exit, 

Thistle. In the name of fury, what did she do ? 

Enter Jenny hastily. 

Jenny. Help ! Miss Sallowfield has fainted away 
on the stairs. {Runs out. 



Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 25 

Thistle. Sister, sister ! 

Emily. Speak, madam. 

Mrs. Post. Oh! — What at my years is the most 
inestimable point ? — reputation ! What at my age is 
the greatest delight ? — a friendly game at cards ! Her 
base insinuations ^vill destroy all ; my reputation ! 
my happiness ! my only amusement! Exclude me 
from a card table, and my existence would be no 
longer bearable. Oh ! oh ! oh ! 

Thistle ^y\/h?iX has Mrs. Snare done, I say ? 

Mrs. Post. She has called me a cheat. Oh ! oh ! 
oh ! At my time of life. Oh ! oh ! {sinks in a chair) 
Oh ! oh ! 

Thistle. Help ! burnt feathers ! brandy — 
{All surround Mrs. Post, atte7nfiting to revive her. 

She has a pack of cards in her hand^ which Jiy 

about at every sob.) [Scene closes in, 

SCENE III.— ^ Room in the Inn. 

Enter Jeremy Thistlebloom. 

Jeremy. Now to prepare for a meeting with my 
elder brother and his (family. What a fool's animo- 
sity have I nourished ! brooding over a bitter feeling 
for one third of a brief existence: — but the cause — 
the cause was deeply rooted — pooh ! the cause is 
over, and we will shake hands out of court. Ah, 
Guy, Guy Thistlebloom, what a contrast was there 
between your character and mine ! you were sensi- 
tive, and easily moved to the extremes of grief and 
joy ; I, cold, perverse, obdurate — but stone in time 
will wear away, and my hard heart now beats to em- 
brace my relatives again.^ — {goes to table) Let me 
again peruse the letter I have addressed to my bro- 
ther ; the first I have written to him these thirty 
years. — {reads) •* Dear Guy, many years since, your 
' younger brother, as eccentric a being as yourself, 
•left your roof with the intention of quitting his 



26 THE CHANCERY SUIT. {Feake. 

* country for ever ; but circumstances induced him 
*to change his name, and pursue an honourable and 

* lucrative profession in London. If you have not 

* forgotten and can forgive, welcome will again be a 

* reconciliation to your still affectionate brother, Je- 

* remy Thistlebloom." — So, that shall go, (folds and 
seals) and how will the epistle be received? {rings 
bell J We shall meet, shake hands, recount old sto- 
ries, and never quarrel again ! 

£nter Michael. 

Mich, {sobbing) Oh — O — did you ring, sir. 

Jeremy. Yes — this letter must be conveyed to Mr. 
Thistlebloom's. What makes your eyes so red, boy? 

Mich. Oh — O — I've been a crving. 

Jeremy. A big fellow like you crying? 

Mich. I can't help it — old Aunt Rucket — poor old 
'oman ! died — she was only ninety-two. 

Jeremy. Only ninety-two! Well, she has paid 
the debt which we must all pay to nature. ' 

Mich. She's gotten no debts, fsobsj I'm left her 
executioner ! If you ring the bell any more, I shan't 
come up to you again. 

Jeremy, llie devil you won't! 

Mich. Master has given me leave to "go over to 
the Lawyer's who has got Aunt Rucket's will, and ! 
to buy a bit of crape to put on my white hat for 
mourning — so. Cousin Ben is to wait on the compa- | 
ny. — {calls off) Come in, Ben. 

Enter Ben. 

Show yourself to the gentleman, Ben — sir, this here 
person will attend your bell. 

Jeremy. Why, he is a sailor! 

Ben. Yes sir, one of the water-guard ! 

Jeremy. One of the rum-and-water guard, by the 
look of him—very well ; send this letter to Thistle- 
bloom Hall. 



Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 27 

Mich. Yes, sir — Ben, you are to wait, (crosses) 
Come along — come along, man ! 

Ben. I thought you said I was to wait, {trifis a- 
cross) Tumble up, my hearty ! 

lExeunt Michael and Ben. 

Jeremy. Now for these cursed papers again; it 
appears that Sir Bernard Blazoncourt is quite confi- 
dent respecting the way in which the Chancery Suit 
will be decided; plague, I've come into the country 
for recreation, and have my hands full of business. 
When shall I inhale fresh air, or get my face bronz- 
ed in the sun, or even find time to eat my dinner ? 

Re-enter Ben. 

Ben. Ahoy ! 

Jeremy. What do you say ? 

Ben. A gemman has brought his horse to an an- 
chor at the door, and sent up this here, {gives a 
Q^rd. 

Jeremy, (reads) "Mr. Frederick Blazoncourt*'— 
request him to be good enough to walk in. 

Ben, Oy, Oy, sir. {bell rings without) Hip, avast 
— five bells — here's the devil to pay, and no pitch 
hot! ITrifisoJ;. 

Jeremy.. There'^s a pretty fellow for a waiter ! 
Now have I an unpleasant task, — no matter, I shall 
do my duty. 

Enter Frederick. 

Fred. I received a message through Mr. O'Dog- 
grely, sir, that you had a private communication to 
make to me : that there might not be any interrup- 
tion, I have waited on you here, in preference to giv- 
ing you the trouble of coming to Blazoncourt Castle. 

Jeremy. I thank you, sir. Mine will be rather an 
extraordinary conversation from a stranger, though 
I believe my name is not unknown to you. 

Fred. The name of Courtington appears too fre- 
quently in the public journals as an able expositor of 



28 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IFeake, 

the laws of our country, to need any farther intro- 
duction. 

Jeremy. I am a very blunt, straight-forward per- 
son ; I have n\ade an useless endeavour to see Sir 
Bernard ; findipig that he is inaccessible, I venture 
to expostulate with his son on the impolicy of con- 
tinuing a certain Chancery Suit. 

Fred' My good sir, I do not interfere with the af- 
fairs of my father. 

Jeremy. Mr. Blazoncourt, I am anxious to save an 
exposure which will give you great cause for pain. 

Fred, Sir, I never did an action of which I could 
be ashamed! 

Jeremy. But your father — 

Fred. I will not have his honour questioned \ 

Jeremy, A patient hearing now will save you a 
world of wo in perspective ; it may be repulsive to 
your feelings, but — 

Fred, {impatiently.) Mr. Courtington J 

Jeremy, I should have wished to have paved the 
way a little, first — but— I come to the point. Sir 
Bernard Blazoncourt is a villain. 

Fred. That infamous epithet to my revered fa- 
ther ? a personal chastisement^ — 

Jeremy. Humph! 

Fred. This must be answered. Though your pre- 
sent conduct denies it, your rank in your profession 
marks you as a gentleman, and not beneath my no- 
tice. If your courage will permit you to remain here 
a short hour, you will hear from me, sir. 

[Exit hastily,. 

Jeremy. Stay, sir — gone- Bravo, Mr, Jeremy! 
another agreeable addition to the country air and ex- 
ercise ; and now, before I can possibly introduce 
myself to my family, from whom I have been es- 
tranged so many years, I shall be popped off in a du- 
el. The hot-headed young spark did not give me 
time to attempt an apology; he'll wing me, and I 
shall never be able to hold up my right arm in an 
impressive manner to a London jury-box again. 



Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 29 

Enter O'Doggrely. 

O^Dog. Eh, Mr. Courtington, — you are looking 
serious, sir; did the soles disagree with you? 

Jeremy- No ; somebody else has disagreed with 
me. 

O'Dog. Och, by the powers ! I witnessed a pretty 
petticoat disagreement at Squire Thistlebloom's. It 
will require all the delicacy and ingenuity of my 
pen. Four ould tabbies entered into a conspiracy to 
accuse the fifth of cheating them at cards. Now, 
from what I know of dear Mrs. Post, I conceive that 
impossible. 

Jeremy, (aside) My poor married sister ! 

O'Dog. I'll give the ladies such a jingling, and the 
charity boys shall sing it at church to them. 
Where's my book ? I'faith, here's a large hole in 
my pocket ; 1 hope I hav'nt lost the book. Bless m^. 
soul, here's a slit ; it is the only sort of re?it I eve 
get in my pocket, {puts his hand through the hole) 
Ah ! the book is in my safe side, {takes it from the 
other side) Let's see; there was mrs Gravebury, 
mrs. Willowly, mrs. Snare, and miss Sallowfield — 
difficult names for a rhyme, {looks at Jeremy) — 
I'faith, he is not attending to me. 

Jeremy, (abstracted J But I have no friend here. 

O'Dog, No friend here ! no friend here ! and isn't 
mr. O'Doggrely here? And did not you, mr. Court- 
ington, eloquently lift a heavy libel case off these 
shoulders ? No friend here, indeed? 

Jeremy, {a/iart) 7\nd why should not I ask him ^ 
If I am called out, there is not time to send to Lon- 
don for a junior counsel to attend me. I dare say he 
has been concerned in such affairs before now — mr. 
O'Doggrely, were you ever second in a duel ? 

O^ Dog. Ay, and tirst too, very often. Tell me, is 
there any fun of that sort likely to take place? 

Jeremy. Fun? yes; and the fun of it is that I, 
who have not been in the village twelve hours, am 
now expecting a mortal defiance. 
3* 



30 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake. 

O'Dog. I congratulate you — fortunate creature; 
here have I been dwelling two long years, and have 
not been lucky enough to get challenged yet. Who 
is your opponent? 

Jeremy. Why, these are peculiar matters. Sup- 
pose, before I reveal his name, that I first receive his 
message ? 

O'Dog. Ay, perhaps the gentleman may think bet- 
ter of it. 

Jeremy. I hope he may 

O'Do^. Fie, lie ! You would be disappointed ! 

Jeremy. Not in the least ! Well, should this in- 
dividual persist in his threat, will you be good enough 
to become my friend on the occasion ? 

O'Dog. To be sure I will, Mr. Courtington ; and 
if your old pistols are rusty for wawt of use, I have a 
pair that in their life-time have killed fifty Trinity 
boys. 

Jeremy. You are very good. I hope 1 shall not 
have occasion to trouble you. 

O'Bog. The trouble will be a pleasure, Sir. I 
■will not interrupt you now; but on the chance, I'll 
just step home and give my little Dublin peace-ma- 
kers a sight of daylight, and half an hour's polishing, 
(a/iart) and in my way, call and return Mr. Blazon- 
court his comedy, (^(akes MS. out.) Oh, and haven't 
I hit on a rare title for it — a title that will astonish 
and please my friend Frederick ^ (to Court.) Depend 
upon me, Mr. Courtington, I will see you fall like a 
man, and buried like a Christian. [JExit. 

Jeremy. The very smell of an affair of honour has 
invigorated that sanguinary Hibernian ! Heigho, 
Jeremy ! how came you to be silly enough to put 
yourself up as a mark to be shot at i* — Now must I, in 
the event of falling, (for no one knows what may hap- 
pen) write another letter to my brother Guy, who, 
the moment he has found out that I am alive, will 
discover that I am dead ! — No matter, I will first do 
my duty to the poor girl Emily Travers. Why the 
devil did I come for fresh air into the country ! {Exit, 



Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 31 

SCENE IV. — Ari Avenue at Blazoncourt Castle. 

Enter Frederick. 
Fred. Strange conduct ! my father avoiding me. 
His orders to his servants that I am not to intrude 
on his privacy. He comes! I will present myself, 
and discover how I have given him annoyance. 

Enter Sir Bernard. 

!Sir Ber. Who crosses my path ? — Frederick ! 

Fred. My dear father ! 

Sir Ber. {Aside.) Viper! but hold — dare you still 
call me by that name ? 

Fred. Still call you by that endearing name ? ay, 
and I hope that I shall ever with fondest love and 
profound respect be permitted to do so. 

Sir Ber. You are embarrassed — is it not with the 
guilty thought of having betrayed your parent i* 

Fred. Betray yoUy sir ! What can be the meaning 
of those dark words ? 

Sir Ber. ( dside.) Though T distinctly heard — I can- 
not yet believe. No : I must not own myself the 
eaves-dropper ! Frederick, it grieves me to discover, 
that in direct opposition to my wishes, you are in 
correspondence with Emily Travers. 

Fred. Sir ! 

Sir Ber, Is it not utter destruction of my views for 
your future aggrandizement, to own yourself ena- 
moured of a low-born beggar? 

Fred. Ah, Sir! did you but know Miss Travers — 
her gentleness — 

Sir Ber. Gentleness! a subdued humility, becom- 
ing her situation in life. I command you sir, on your 
boasted duty as a son, to relinquish all idea of this 
degrading connexion! 

Fred. Father, hear me. I love her, and I am hap- 
py in the belief that I am beloved. 

Sir Ber. Romantic fool ! obey me. What ! — yes, 
it is then in human nature to raise the hand against 



32 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake. 

the parent. Go, sir ! blacken the character of your 
father! denounce him to his bitterest enemies as a 
villain ! encourage the finger of scorn to point at the 
author of your being ! 

{Frederick attemfits to seize his hand, Sir Bernard 
walks ufi.) 
Fred. How fearful is his anger ! How shall I ap- 
pease you, sir ? by what title shall I — 

Fnter O'Doggrely running, with the Manuscrifit 
in his hand. 

O'Dog. Title, my boy, I've got it! I'll tell you 
( reads p.ompously ) — " The Im/ilacable Father ; or, 
Tyrannic conduct never fails to jneet luith its just re- 
tributiony present or jiosthumous.^^ {Sees Sir Ber- 
nard.) Och, powers! I've let the cat out of the bag 
to the high and mighty onld gentleman, {to Fred.) 
You had better own all at once. 

Fred, {to Sir Bernard) Sir, I beg to assure you 
that the words you heard just now, bore no affinity 
to the painful subject on which we were arguing a 
moment previous. 

Sir Ber. Frederick! I shall not feel inclined to 
credit assertions, until I perceive that you choose for 
your associates gentlemen of birth and education. 

O'Dog. (ajiart.) That's a rap at my door; but 
I'll answer it myself. Sir Bernard, if you are about 
making the smallest allusions to me, permit me to 
set you right, if you should happen to be wrong. 

Fi-ed. Cease, Mr. O'Doggrely. 

CfDog. Sir, I was a gentleman born and bred. I 
was educated at " Trin. Col. Duh.^^ and sir, I inherit- 
ed a good fortune, which I honourably spent, and 
more than that, twice over, before I arrived at yeax's 
of discretion. 

Sir Ber. I have no doubt, sir, of your infinite me- 
rit, but I wish that Mr. Frederick Blazoncourt would 
in future be more prudent in the selection of his 
companions. [ExiC 



Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 33 

O^Dog: {aside.) *' My Lord Skinflint lives here." — 
And this language to a poet and to the son of a poet ! 

Fred. I am the most unfortunate fellow in exis- 
tence. 

O'Bog-. Iri your intimacy with me. Good bye, 
Mr. Frederick, — your hand, — though it will cost me 
more than I can afford to lose — your friendship, I am 
not the man to keep a breach open betwixt lather 
and son. 

jFred. Stay, Stay— 

O'Dog-. No; you shall not be pestered any longer, 
I will go and enlist in the Irish Fusileers, and get my 
potatoe of a head shot off. 

Fred, I do not choose, on such slight grounds, to 
abandon my friend. 

O^Dog. Your friend abandons you ! 

Fred. Never! {seizing his hand.) 

O'Dog. Ah ! how you thrust every one of my par- 
ries! 

Fred. At this moment, I have the greatest need 
of a friend, — a friend entirely unconnected \vith my 
family. 

O'hog. Such a friend am I — Sir Bernard is evi- 
dence of that. 

Fred. I have an affair of honour on my hands, a pe- 
remptory duty to perform, {afiart.) Yes, my father, 
though you will not appreciate my respect and affec- 
tion, yet I will uphold your name, and risk my life 
in clearing your reputation of stigma.- (To O'Dog.) 
I have been grossly insulted this morning. 

O'Dog. I am glad to hear it. 

Fred. Eh !— why ? 

O'Dog. It will give me the delightful opportunity 
of carrying the challenge to your antagonist. 

Fred. You will materially oblige me — I know I 
may depend on you for the necessary arrangements : 
— here is the letter already written; lose no time, 
convey this to the gentleman as directed, and you 
will find me waiting in the farm shrubbery. — Adieu. 
lExitf after giving a letter to O'Doggrely. 



34 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Feake. 

O^Dog. I have my hands fall to my heart's content 
now. 1 must take care to fix the hours so, that one 
little entertainment I am engaged in may not inter- 
fere vvith the other. Let me see : Mr. Frederick 
Blazoncourt is the drawer of the billet, who is to be 
the acceptor? (Reads direction.) Och ! murder — 
here's a quandary ! — (Reads.) " To Mr. Courting- 
ton." — Is it Mr. Courtington he is challenging:' and 
I have undertaken to be second to both parties ! — I'm 
kilt — kilt entirely. My friend Frederick going to 
fight my friend the honest barrister ! — What's to be 
done, what's to be done •' — no time must be lost, for 
at any rate, at this present writing they have only 
got half a second between them. [F.xU, 

END OF ACT II. 



ACT III. 
SCENE I.—J/iartmeni at Thistlebloom Hall. 

Thistlebloom enters ^folloived by a Servant. 

Thistle, No, no, I wont ride to-day — I'm as melan- 
choly as a cat in damp weather. I want something 
to stimulate me — Who did you say wished to speak 
to me ? 

Servant. Tapsly, Sir — landlord of the Crown and 
Cushion. 

Thistle. What the devil does he want ? — show him 
in. \_Exit Servant. 

I'm in that sort of nervous irritation, I should like 
somebody to come and claw me all over with a gar- 
den rake. 

Servant ushei's in Tapsly. 

Well, Mr. Tapsly.^ 

Tajisly. Please your Worship, a London gentleman 
at my house wrote this letter- — Michael my waiter is 
engaged, so I stepped up with it myself. 



I Act III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 35 

Thistle. Wait and see if there's an answer requir- 

l ed. — A Londoner ! who do I know in London ? thank 

D mercy, very few. — {o/ietis a7id reads.) " Dear Guy." 

{ — Who the devil dear Guys me ? — (reads.) " Thir- 

i " ty years since your younger brother, as eccentric a 

|| ** being as yourself, quarrelled with you and left your 

[j *' roof, (reads to himself in an anxious and hurried 

\ " manner,) If you have not forgotten" — forgotten! 

' — •' and can forgive," — can forgive ? — " welcome will 

•* again be the reconciliation to your still affectionate 

*' brother, Jeremy !" — The carriage — quick — fly, 

Tapsly, fly ! {Exit Tafisly, 

{rings bell.) Poor Jeremy ! — wonderful — turned up 

after thirty years ! {rings again.) 

Enter Servant. 

Send for miss Emily immediately, tell her it is of the 
most serious consequence — of the deepest interest. 

\^Kxit Servant. 
Jeremy! — {bursts into tears.) Jeremy— dead ! Jere- 
my I — {suddenly becomes excited .) alive! — alive — my 
brother — my playmate! — The cricket — the bowls — 
all the recollections of my youth, the vivid picture 
of happiness and enjoyment revives — What is there 
to be melancholy about? I ought to rejoice, I'm sure 
I ought — I — will rejoice, {imfies his eyes — begins 
singing and dancing.) 

Enter Emily, — She is surjirised — he dances u}i to her 
and fiuts his hand round her waist. 

Emily. What can have happened, sir } 

Thistle. Excitement ! 

Emily. Sir.^ 

Thistle. Stimulus! 

Emily, (ivith difficulty stofifiing his dancing.) 
Pray explain. 

Thistle, (gives letter.) Read that— read that. 
Congratulate me, my love, I am so happy !— nothing 
in the world now shall ever depress me again, {re- 
commences dancing.) 



56 THE CHANCERY SUIT. {Peake. 

Emily. This is extraordinary, sir, — You never ac- 
quainted me with the reason of your brother's reso- 
lution in withdrawing himself from his family? 

Thistle. An odd affair, but three words will give 
you a clue to it. Jeremy is my junior, he fell despe- 
rately in love with a beautiful girU but kept his pas- 
sion a secret. But when he ventured to avow it to 
the lady, to his utter confusion, he discovered that I 
■ — I — his elder brother, had been, sub rosa^ the ac- 
cepted suitor: — stung to the quick, he quitted us: 
we have not seen nor heard of him from that time 
till this — but, ah ! melancholy recollection, alas ! I 
was less fortunate than he! 

Emily. Indeed, sir ! 

Thistle. Before I could make her my bride, death 
blighted the fragile flower; 

Emily. Distressing event! 

Thistle. I loved her with all the vehemence of a 
first affection, I never loved after — I lost a wife — I 
lost a brother ; and gradually became the half- craz- 
ed, eccentric being you have known me — with no 
middle course of reason, but alternately the victim 
of excitement or exhaustion. 

Emily. Speak not thus, my dear Sir: your active 
benevolence has ever cheered the hearts of the 
wretched ; and the traces of early sorrow have only 
tended to ensure you respect and affection. 

Thistle. Affection ! yes — yes. {kisses Emily^s fore- 
head.) Then you came, you little rogue, an unpro- 
tected orphan, — your parents died — the affairs were 
thrown into Chancery ! a wicked pretence set up 
that your poor father and mother were not wedded — - 
the misfortune of the chancel of the church being 
burnt, in which was the book wherein the marriage 
was registered — the death of all the witnesses. — 
You became my charge, though unconnected by the 
ties of relationship; but the same placid smile 
which had so often enraptured me whilst gazing on 



Act III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 37 

her I lost, played on your lips: your beauty, your ti- 
mid reliance on my protection inspired me with a 
father's affection for you. 

EmUy. Too well I know this sad recital, and that 
the endearing duties of filial love were denied me; 
but my earliest recollections are of your tender care, 
which can only be repaid with the gratitude of a poor 
orphan ! ^ . 

Thistle, f loifics his eyes.) Poor, girl ? you shall be 
rich — rich — an heiress — ha! ha! ha! Look from the 
window : those hills covered with oaks are yours — 
you shall hold courts — grant leases — build alms- 
houses — please the rich, and comfort the poor: all 
this shall be done, if money and perseverance can 
carry you through, (and Chancery is tight work to 
fight against.) Ecod ! you shall be Lady of the Ma- 
nor yet — ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! {in joyous excite- 
ment.) 

Enter Servant, 
Now, why did you come to stop me — something dis- 
agreeable to utter ? 

Servant. Mr. Snare, sir ! 

Thistle. Plague take him just at this time ! — show 
him up. {Exit Servant.) — I'll send him off with a 
flea in his ear. He has called, I suppose, to apolo- 
gize for the unpardonable rudeness of his wife. 

Enter Snare. 
Snare. Servant Mr. Thistlebloom : I have come 
to you on a very unpleasant affair. 
i Thistle. Ah, bad enough — bad enough, sir ! 
' Snare. But I beg you to understand that I appear 
only as an agent. 

Thistle. It is coming out — Mrs. Snare very sorry, 
lost her shillings and her temper, and so forth. 

Snare. May I intreat that my communication might 
be private? (bowing to Emiiyj who is retiring: J 



38 THE CHANCERY SUIT. yPeake 

Thistle. No, sir. — Come here, Emily, you' shall 
hear what Mr. Snare has to say, and you can convey 
it to hiy sister, who is so vexed, horrified, and af- 
fronted, that she has gone to bed. — Now, sir! — What 
has Mrs. Snare to say for herself? 

Snare. Really, I am not aware of your meaning, as 
regards Mrs. Snare ; I have not seen my wife for the 
last forty-eight hours. 

Thistle. No? 

Snare. We country practitioners ride about in this 
place and t'other place, 8cc. &c. 6cc. — I have not yet 
been home!' 

Thistle. Then, what is this mysterious business? 

Snare. Since you will have me speak out — my bu- 
siness is concerning Miss Emily — an attachment. 

Thistle. An attachment, Emily ? J 

Emily, (aside. J Surely, Frederick has not di- | 
vulged ! 

Thistle. An attachment, sir — an attachment ? 

Snare. An attachment from the Court of Chance- 
ry, transmitted by the Sheriff of the county, — {firo- 
duces a sliji of parchin'ent.) — that Miss Emily Tra- 
vers (defendant in the W^oodburn case,) be commit- 
ted to the Fleet Prison forthwith, for contempt of 
court. 

Thistle. What! 

Emily. The Fleet Prison, sir ? 

Snare. By neglect, an answer has not been filed 
by your Solicitor. — Miss Emily must be prepared to 
accompany the officer to London, who has to deliver 
her to the custody of the Warden. 

Emily, (trembling and clinging to Thistlebloom.J 
Oh, sir I what will become of me ? 

Thistle. Hark'ye, Mr. Snare I Do you know the de- 
mon in human shape, the contriver of this conspira- 
cy ? What ! have vou the heart to drag this innocent 
girl from her comfortable home to the abode of 
wretchedness, on the plea of some technical error ? 



Act III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 39 

— You may be a good country practitioner, Mr. 
Snare, but I think you have yet to learn a very ne- 
cessary part of your profession. 

Snare. What may that be, sir ? 

Thistle. The common law of humanity. 

Snare, (tartly.) Remember, Mr. Thistleblooom, 
that I am but an agent. 

Thistle. To the devil! and I hope he will pay you 
your commission. 

Snare. Thank you, sir For the regularity of the 

busmess of the Court, its forms must necessarily be 
attended. 

Thistle. Then understand me, Mr. Snare. — Emily 
shall not go ! — I'm a county magistrate — you may 
get me hanged if you like — perhaps it may do me 
some good. You are very fond of game, sir. 

Snare. Uncommonly partial to it, sir. 

Thistle. Mark me : — if your catch-pole, or pole- 
cat of a sheriff's officer shows his face here, — I'll 
shoot him ; and you may dangle him up by the heels 
in your larder and keep him till he is tender — a ten- 
der sheriflf's officer would be a rarity. 

Snare. The fact, is sir, every man has his weak 
point, atid I own, strict attention to business is a 
weak point of mine. 

Thistle. You are made up of nothing but weak 
points. 

Snare. Sir, this conduct — this will be a pretty an- 
ecdote to relate at the Solicitors' Club — ha! ha! 

Thistle. Solicitors' Club. Oh, you have an Attor- 
nies ClUb then, have ye? — it won't last long> — birds 
of prey are seldom gregarious. 

Snare. You are becoming personal ; good day, sir, 
— of course you must expect to hear more of this. 

[Bows, and exit. 

Emily. No, no, my best and kindest friend, my 
troubles must no longer claim your generous inter- 
ference. 

Thistle. Pooh, pooh, — we'll have no law here I 
{calls off.) John, — Ifhomas, — Jenkins, — Gamekeep- 



40 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake^^ 

er, — ^load all the guns — get out the jack-hooks, — unJ 
couple the dogs, — let loose the vicious kicking pony-j 
— stir up the wasps' nest, and you, my dear, go up- 
stairs, and creep into bed to my sister directly, and I 
will lock you in. Barricade the window. Oh, fire 
and fury! if we are assaulted by the whole fleet, 
they shan't take you. Come along, my girl; these 
events have driven poor Jeremy clean out of my 
head. (' calls off.) John, Thomas, Gamekeeper! 

{^Exeunt. 

SCENE II — A Room in the Inn. 

Jeremy discovered at a table. 
Jeremy. So, this is a pretty hour of suspense ; 
■waiting for a verdict is nothing to it; this does not 
depend on a point of law, but on the hasty decision 
of one hot head, instead of the calm deliberation of 
twelve. If that mad-cap sprig of the Blazoncourts 
had but heard me out — but he was like a rocket, the 
moment he was fired, off he went. I wish the young 
spark would as' easily vanish in the air. Ah! her6 
is my doughty O'Doggrely. (at table.) 

Enter O'Doggrely. 

0*Dog. {apart.') What plan am I to pursue? 
Firstly, I fear to displease Mr. Frederick ; secondly, 
I can't forsake my legal hero, Courtington ; thirdly, 
I should be sorry to have the sport spoiled. There 
he sits — looks, I think, as if he would not like to lose 
his life in a duel — would rather go off in a decline I 

Jeremy. Well, Mr. O'Doggrely, any news? 

O'Dog. 'f'es, there is ; great news — (gives Frede- 
rick's note) : look at the paper. Now I stand com- 
mitted on both sides ! 

Jeremy, (after reading.) Humph I this is posi- 
tive and disagreeable enough. Has Mr. Blazoncourt 
made arrangement with any gentleman to officiate as 
his second ? . 



Act III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 41 

O'Dog. Yes, yes ; there is a gentleman. 

Jeremy, Do you know the person ? i 

O'Dog. As well as I know myself. 

Jeremy^ Humph ! a countryman of yours, perhaps? 

O'Dog. Yes, born in the city of Dublin, if you can 
call that the country. 

Jeremy. {Jside.) Another Irishman! Then there's 
no chance of an accommodation — a couple of Kilken- 
'ny cats! And at what hour is it proposed that the 
meeting should take place ? 

O'Dog. At your convenience. 

Jeremy. It is plaguily inconvenient to me altoge- 
ther. What is the name of Mr. Blazoncourt's second? 

O'Dog. {aside.) What shall I say ? — O, his name 
— his name is Murphy. 

Jeren:y. Mr. Murphy? — Friend O'Doggrely, if 
there was yet a probability (without infringing on 
the accepted laws of honour,) that I might have an 
opportunity of an interview with Mr. Frederick Bla- 
zoncourt, it would be of essential importance. 

O'Dog". I am of opinion that every thing must go 
through the seconds. 

Jeremy. Every thing go through the seconds ? 

O'Dog' Every thing, except the bullets. 

Jeiemy. Suppose, then, you join the other Irish 
gentleman — 

O.Dog. (aside.) Join the other Irish gentleman ! 

Jeremy. Go to Mr. Murphy, and state that, prior 
to the meeting, Mr. Blazoncourt must be made ac- 
quainted with an important fact. Where is Mr. Mur- 
fi\y ? 

O'Dog, Oh, close by ; we are in constant commu- 
nication. 

Jeremy. You may say, that it is an act of justice 
"which renders it necessary that an explanation should 
take place before I present myself to the fire of an 
adversary's pistol — that Miss Emily Travers is deep- 
ly concerned. 

4* 



42 THE CHANCERY SUIT. iPeake. 

0*Dog. Miss Emilv Travers ! My gallantry for- 
bids refsual ; I'll talk to Mr Blazoncourt. 

' Jeremy. You ? I thought every thing must go 
through the seconds. 

G*Dog. Wait awhile, Sir, and 1*11 commune with 
Mr. Murphy ; we'll lay our Irish heads together, and 
see the possibilities of the matter, {aside.) By the 
powers, I am a man beside myself — O'Doggrely, the 
second ! l£a:it. 

Jeremy. There is now a duty to perform ; I must 
write another brief note to my brother, in the event 
of my iaW.fgoes to the table ^ nvrites^ and reads aloud 
as he writes.) '* By a strange combination of circum- 
** stances, since you received my former letter, I 
** have had the misfortune to be called out in a duel. 
*• I should have been happy to have squeezed my 
" brother by the hand ; but fate has ordained it 
" otherwise ; as I shall be, when you receive this, 
" no longer in the land of the living. In my travell- 
** ing desk, you will discover documents of great im- 
*' port to your ward Emily Travers. Farewell, fare- 
•' well !" f/o/f/* it. J There — that is the second let- 
ter I have written to my family these thirty years — 
hope there will not be any occasion for its delivery. 
{seals and directs it.) '*To Guy Thistlebloom, Esq., 
to be delivered immediately." 

Re-enter O'Doggrely. 

O^Dog. I have arranged a meeting to your satisfac- 
tion. Sir — and Mr. Blazoncourt is waiting in the 
Shrubbery just across the road to^hear your commu- 
nication — (a nice cool secluded place for a shot, 
where you may kill a pheasant as well as a foe). If 
either of you should lose your lives, it will be in a 
preserve. 

oeremy. Stay, sir. — It will be as well now to give 
you this letter, with a request that it may be deliver- 
ed to Mr. Guy Thistlebloom, if it should so happen 
that an accident occurs to me. Be sure he has it — its 



Act III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 43 

contents are of vital importance, f gives it to O^Dog- 
Zrely.) Come, Sir. 

O'Dog. I'll take the greatest care of it. (^Ar fiuta 
the letter into his fiocket-hole ; unseen^ it drops on the 
Stage. ) There, now we are all secure ; you go first, 
sir — you are the pvincipal,/ am only the second. 

[^Exeunt* 

Tafsly, alarmedyfiee/18 through a doory—comes fov 
ward, 

Tafisly. Bless my soul, bless my soul ! what have 
I overheard? — here is the strange gentleman going 
out to fight a duel with young Squire Blazoncourt ! — 
What shall I do ? — hope Mrs. Tapsly won't hear of 
it — she'd go into fits— Here, Ben — Ben ! 

Enter Ben. 

Ben. Ahoy ! what cheer ? 

Tafisly. Cheer,indeed! You follow those two per- 
sons {/loints off.) — they have pistols. [ fear some 
harm will be done — don't let them see you. 

Ben. What am I to do with them ? 

Tafisly y They are going to fight ! 

Ben. Why not let 'em fight it out ? 

Tafisly. Not for the world! you must prevent 
them, — run, run, my good Benjamin, after them; stop 
the fighting and I will give you a china bowl full of 
grog,— don't let my wife know it, and in the mean 
time I'll scamper for the constables and beadle. [Exit. 

Ben. Got pistols, have they ? Well, there's grog 
in sight, so I'll make sale arter them— but avast ! as 
I'm to stop 'em, it will be as well to take my Pre- 
ventive Service barking iron with me. (fiulla a large 
pistol out of his bosom. ) Now heave a head, my jolly 
boy! lExit 

{Bell rings.) 

Snare. ( Without.) House—Mr. Tapsly !— nobody 
here. 



44 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake. 

Mrs. Ta/isly. (M/Uhout.) Mr. Tapsly— Ben — have 
you no ears ? (Bells ring- ) 

Enter S-ha^e^ followed by Mrs Tapsly. 

Mrs. Tafis I don't know where my husband is, or 
•where the waiters; we are all at sixes and sevens, 
and mourning in the house. 

Snare. Oh — poor old Dame Rucket, I suppose — a 
great relief! 

3Irs. Taps. Your commands, Mr. Snare ? 

Snare. Post-horses directly, and tell the boys they 
must drive like the devil. 

JMrs. Tafis, Bless you, sir, they know who they are 
driving, {crosses.) First and second pair up. {^Exil, 

Snare. What am I to do about Miss. Emily Tra- 
vers ? Mad old Thistlebloom would be as good as his 
•word, and would think nothing of shooting my, — 
ahem ! — bailiff. Old Guy contrived to awe me, and 
it is my interest to keep on terms with him. I dare 
not see Sir Bernard till the young lady is on her way 
to the Fleet (though we have no earthly right to send 
her there). I'll post over to the County Bank, and 
try and raise the three thousand pounds. That will 
be a sop for that high flying Blazoncourt dragon! 
— What have we here on the floor > (fiicks ufi the 
Letter.) "To Guy Thistlebloom, Esq. — to be de- 
livered immediately." Sometimes a secret is of im- 
portance in my profession — ffiee/is into it) — how 
strange ! a more cunning fellow than I folded this let- 
ter up. I cannot see a single word of it. — [turns it 
over in various posit ioiis.) Nothing to be got «ut of 
this {/leefis.J 

Reetiter Mrs. Tapsly. 
Snare, Ahem— tol de rol de rol lal lal. ("affects 
ease. J 

Mrs. laps. The chaise is ready, sir. 



Act. III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 45 

Snare. Here's a letter 1 picked up on your floor, di- 
rected to Mr. Guy Thistlebloom. — it is superscribed 
*' to be delivered immediately," — send it up, never 
neglect business. D'ye get any rabbits more than 
you know what to do with ? Mrs. Snare doats on a 
wild rabit smothered with onions! Open the chaise 
door there, and send the letter to Thistlebloom Hall. 

{Exeunt 

SCENE III. ji Shrubbery. — Frederick walking 
about, 

Fred. I begin to suspect the courage of this Court- 
ington. I would not have listened to his proposal, 
but that the name of Emily Travers produced a tal- 
ismanic effect on me. They come, — O'Doggrely 
alone with him — how! is ^e unattended by a friend? 

Enter O'Doggrely with pistols^ and Jeremy. 

0''Dog, Stay you there a moment, if you please. 
C Jeremy remains at the side. J Mr. Blazoncourt, I 
presume to address you- (^Ae crosses to Frederick J 
I've brought Mr- Courtington. 

Fred. Where is Mr. Courtington's second ? 

0*Dog. He'll be here directly — one Mr. Murphy 
— leave me alone to settle matters with him. (crosset 
to Jeremy. J Now, are you ready to palaver ? 

Jeremy, Where is the other Irish gentleman, Mr. 
Blazoncourt's friend. 

O' Dog \C looks off".) I see him — make yourself aisy 

Jeremy. I thought you said that a surgeon was to 
be in attendance ? 

0*Dog. One of Mrs. Murgatroyd's cows kicked 
another cow last night, — the docter was obliged to 
go there. 

Jeremy. But where is Mr. Murphy ? 

O^Dog. He's gone to look for the surgeon — whisht, 
man! 



46 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake. 

Fred, (imfiatiently) Mr. O'Doggrely, I must wave 
the custom on these occasions, and speak — What is 
the cause of this unnecessary delay ? 

O'Dog-. The delay is — that — where the devil is 
Mr. Murphy, the other second ? — fie upon you, Mur- 
phy ? 

Fred. Singular absence ! — this is badly arranged. 

Jeremy. Very badly indeed! 

O'Dog. Gentlemen ! it is quite impossible for me 
to say where Mr. Murphy can be at present, — he 
ought to be ashamed of himself — but, if you will 
allow me to take the privilege of a friend and wait 
upon both of ye — and supposing now, while I am 
measuring the ground, that you, Mr. Frederick, lis- 
ten to what Mr. Courtington has to say — {Afiart to 
Frederick.) I permit you to commune with him on 
the subject ; and, as Murphy is absent, I'll just speak 
to Mr. Courtington. (crosses to Jeremy?) I allow you 
nothing derogatory to your honour, to talk to Mr. 
Blazoncourt. {jy Doggrely retires.) 

Jeremy' {advances.) Sir, my blunt, perhaps coarse 
mode of expressing myself, fully warranted, I own, 
your sudden indignation; but if I had not powerful 
proof to back that which I then avowed, I should 
have richly deserved the chastisement you threa- 
tened. 

Fred. Proceed, Sir. The name of Miss Travers 
was mentioned. 

Jeremy. Tow months since, an acquaintance of 
mine in London, by name Mandeville, was stretched 
on his death-bed by a lingering and painful disorder ; 
he sent for, and appointed me his executor. Some- 
thing was weighing heavily on his mind; after a 
struggle, he obtained a mastery over shame, in the 
acknowledgement of guilt, by revealing to me, that, 
sixteen years previous, he had, for certain consider- 
ations, forged a document, purporting to be an avowal 
Of the father of Emily Travers, that his daughter 
-was born illegitimate.^ 



Act. III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 47 

Fred. Ah ! speak on. Sir. 

Jeremy. He added with his dying breath, that he 
had obtained possession by stealth of the Parish Re- 
gister recording the celebration of the marriage of 
the parents of Miss Travers, during an accidental 
fire which occurred in the chancel of the church. 
That record is destroyed; the poor girl is hopeless 
there : — one living witness alone remains, an aged 
servant named Winterfield. 

Fred. Ah! Winterfield? 

Jeremy. The forged document is still in existence, 
which villainous instrument has kept Emily Travers 
from the inheritance of her ancestors to this period? 

Fred. {Aside.) Poor Emily : — she may still regain 
her rights. Where is this paper .^ 

Jeremy. In your father's hands! 

Fred. How ! confusion ! 

Jeremy. Sir Bernard Blazoncourt, you are aware, 
is the claimant of the Woodburn Estate. It is the 
certain knowledge of the facts I have related, and 
my dependance on the excellant character you bear 
which induce me to confide this secret to you : hav- 
ing done my duty thus far, I am now ready to take 
my station, and to receive your fire. 

Fred. Slay, Sir ! 

Jeremy. O'Doggrely— the pistols. {O'^Doggrely 
comes forward.) 

Fred. One moment I request, Sir. 

O'Dog. ('Aside. J Mr. Frederick does not like it 
now — if you please. Gentlemen — Murphy, the other 
second, is not arrived yet. 

Fred. Be so obliging as to retire. 
O'Dog. 'Faith, he won't let the seconds interfere 
at any rate. [Exit, 

Fred. Mr. Courtington, until this affair is recti- 
fied, our resentments or atonements must rest. The 
earnestness of your manner surprises me ; your im- 
plication of my father 1 proudly hope to annul ; but 
you are the friend of Miss Travers— a strict inyesti- 



48 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake^ 

gation shall prove whether her claims are ju»t : 
should they be so — [thoughtfully.) But time will 
bring to light. This way, Mr. Courtington I in- 
treat — we must not be overheard. [^JExeunt 

Rc'Cnter O'Doggrely with fiistols. 

O'Dog: They are a long time discussing ; I'll 
venture to enquire when they intend to begin busi- 
ness ? Eh, Bather shin — not here? f looks about, J 
And there yonder they're walking arm in arm, as 
quietly as a sheep and her baa-lamb! Well, of 
course they will come back in a minute, so I'll pre- 
pare and measure the ground— eight paces will be 
about the mark ; so — {steps) there, there are eight 
paces, and a little bit for manners — I've loaded the 
pretty creatures here. Let's see: here v/ill stand 

Mr. B— , and he re I will place Mr. C •, 

and Mr. O'D. will take his position here — eh, just so. 
/luts himself into an attitude.) I gracefully give the 
signal to fire. 

Ben /lofis out from a bush. 

Ben. Belay, belay ! 

O'Dog. What ! Och, murther ! we are discover- 
ed; who are you? 

JBen. One of the preventive ! 

0*Dog. Go about your business, you tarpaulin- 
looking fellow ! 

Ben. I'll see you at Wapping first. 

O'JDog. I'll frighten him. {points pistol.) My tight 
boy do you see this pistol ? 

Ben. Yes, my tight boy. And do you see this ? 
{pulls out a large pistol, and points.) 

O'Dog, Och ! we shall have £i jewel after all ! 

£nter a Beadle and two country Constables. 
Beadle. In the King's name, down with them .' 
( The Constables come behind , and seize O^Doggrely, 
Ben takes a pistol from him) 
Bring him along — bring him along! 



Act. III.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 49 

0*Dog> You clodhopping bogtrotters ! 

Constable. Why this be the chap that keeps the 
whole village in order! 

Beadle. The Irish poet — we'll put him in the cage 
— oft with him ! 

Omnes. Off with him ! {Bustle — all take hold of 
him.) 

O'Dog. Satisfaction, you brutes! Vm a gentle- 
man — botheration, turf, fire and fury ! — I'll pay ye, 
for this. 

(They carry him off ; in the struggle^ he Jives 
one of hiH fiistols in the air.) 

END OF ACT III. 



ACT IV. 

SCENE I.— Mr. Snare's Office.— Enter Snare. 

Snare. What is next on my list? — "Spriggins 
versus Whortleberry" — ** Dr. Ghast's Settlement." 
'Gad, I have not a moment for myself. What with 
one thing and another— /zo*? obits and ^o*r-chaises, 
I have not set eyes on my blessed wife and family 
these two days ! In country practice, instead of sit- 
ting in an office, half your work must be done on 
horseback. 

Enter Clerk. 

Clerk. Mrs. Post wishes to speak to you, Sir. 

Snare. Another Post ! Show her in. 

[Exit Clerk 
Now, what can the old lady want with me } some- 
thing about Miss Emily Travers, I suppose. Well, 
I must be civil, to keep in with the family. 

Enter Mrs. Post. 
Well, my dear Mrs. Post, this is a favour ; you, of 
all persons in the world— pray be seated. 



50 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake. 

Mrs. Post. Mr. Snare, I think you have been ab- 
sent from home, one or two days ? I trouble you on 
a little private business (unconnected with my fam- 
ily) in which I am anxious for the advice of a discreet 
professional man. 

{Snare brivgs forward a chair for Mrs. Pasty 
a?id seats htmself en a high office-stool) 
Be good enough, Sir, to listen to my detail, and 
give me your candid opinion whether I have not 
very sufficient grounds for an action? 

Snare {rubbing his hands) 1 am all attention, 
Madam. 

Mrs Post. You know the usual resource of us 
elderly ladies of an evening — the last new novel 
skimmed, scandal failing, and tea over — cards— cards 
are the constant relaxation from the harassing 
idleness of the day. 

Snare. I am aware that you play an admirable 
rubber. 

Mrs. Post. Strange to say, I am always successful, 
which created the envy of the Coterie with whom I 
spent the evening. In the present state of the affair, 
1 shall not particularize where the insulting event 
took place, for which 1 am now by your good assis. 
tance to obtain legril redress. 

Snare. One moment. Madam — allow me to make 
my notes, {takes out Jiocket-book and fiencit.) 

Mrs. Post. What will you say. Sir, to a combina- 
tion of ladies determined not to admit me again to a 
card-table — and the principal agent of this combina- 
tion has had the grossness and audacity to say that 
I play unfairly ; nay has positively stigmatized me 
as a common 

Snare. What i» 

Mrs. Pest. Cheat a cheat ! 

Snare. Is it possible there exists so defamatory a 
character ? 

JMrs. Post. She does exist, and is glorying in her 
malice at this moment. 



i 



Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 51 

Snare- To use a vulgar sort of cribbage fihrase^ 
*' We must take this lady down a peg or two;" it is 
a shameful business, madam. Give me full powers 
to carry it into Court ; it is a duty, madam, you 
owe not only to yourself in particular, but to the 
card-playing public in general. 

Mra. Post. Pray, what would be the probable re- 
sult of an action } 

Snare. Damages — decidedly heavy damages for 
defamatory language. 

(Mrs. Snare fieefis in at office-door.) 

Mrs. Snare. Oh, my dear, you are returnefl at last 
— engaged. — I beg pardon for breaking in on a pri- 
vate conversation. 

Snare. I will come up directly. Stay — come here, 
my Eleanoi'. 

Mrs. Snare, {coming forward^ sees Mrs. Post.) 
{aside.) Mrs. Post here.-* — what does she want, I 
•wonder ? 

' Snare, {to Mrs. Post ) Well thought of, madam. 
As in all probability we shall find it expedient to call 
in evidence as to your mode of playing, the testimo- 
ny of my Cara s/iosa, 1 am sure, will be much at your 
ser^'ice. 

IMrs. Snare bites her li/iSy and shakes her 
head des/iondingly.] 

Snare. Ah, she hates the very idea of being call- 
ed into court ; as for me, it is my element. Now, 
my good Mrs, Post, I have received your instruc 
tions to draw up a case on which to found an action 
for defamation. {Mrs- Snare embarrassed.) — What's 
the matter, my Eleanor? — And whoever the lady 
may be, [ pity her. {aside.) What is she winking at ? 
— a backbiting, slandering, disappointed she-game- 
ster ! who, because she has lost a few shillings, darts 
her envenomed tongue on an innocent and virtuous 
victim. Pray, madam, what is the name of the de- 
fendant? — {^refiares to write.) 



S2 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake. \ 

Mrs. Post. Eleanor Snare ! • 

Snare, {drofifiing book ) What I 

A/r*. Po*/. Eleanor Snare, (/loindng.') That good 
lady, sir ! 

Snare. What, nia*am, my — my — my— my wife? 

Mi's. Post. Most assuredly ! You are my attor- 
ney, sir. I trust you will do your duty, — a duty you 
owe not only to me in particular, but to the card- 
playing public in general. 

Snare. Madam, I — 

Mrs. Post. I cannot (by your advice) consent to 
hear of any accommodation; so, " to use a vulgar sort 
of cribbage phrase — take her down a peg or two." 
I wish you good day. I do not envy you you your 
feelings, Mrs. Snare, but I hope that this lesson may 
amend you for the future. ICurlsies, and exit. 

Snare, (walking up. and down. J Here is a pret- 
ty scrape you have got yourself and your husband 
into, Mrs. Snare ! 

Mrs. Snare. Indeed! How comes it, Mr. Snare, 
that you have drawn your poor wife into this predic- 
ament ^ 

Snare. You have defamed — grossly defamed that 
respectable lady. 

Mrs. Snare. And you, my love, have been aiding 
her to punish me for it — a pretty husband, truly ! 

Snare. This affair will spread all over the county. 

Mrs. Snare. I hope it may. 

Snare, I shall never hear the end of it. That 
Irish satirist, O'Doggrely, will gee hold of it, and, 
worse than that, not another head of game shall we 
receive from Thistlebloom Hall. There is a way 
to stop the affair. — You must go, my dear, and hum- 
bly beg Mrs, Post's pardon. 

Mrs. Snare. Mr. Snare, you know I am a deter- 
mined person. — May my hair turn red, and resist 
the curling irons for ever, if I do ! 

Snare. Tell me — did Mrs. Post play unfairly? 
Prove that to me, my love, and I will turn the tables 



Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 53 

the other way, and threaten her with an action — did 
she cheat? Say the word; bzing me proof, and it 
shall go into court against her. 

Mrs. Snare. La, Mr. Snare ! how impetuous you 
are! 

Snare, Answer me, madam : were you choused ? 

Mrs. Snare, No, no, no. She won all our money, 
and we accused her, out of spite. 

Snare. We — ive ? Oh, then there is somebody 
else I can implicate? 

Mrs. Snare. No. my love, / suggested it ; and ive 
carried into execution like women of spirit. \_Ex:U, 

Snare, Curse your spirit! There is no extrica- 
tion from this. Now we shall have open warfare 
No more temporizing — no more partridges and phea- 
sants ! I must side heart and hand with Sir Ber- 
nard ; yes — (takes out fiarchment writ. J — the officer 
of the sheriff shall do his duty, and at any risk take 
Miss Emily Travers into custody. But as it is an il- 
legal affair, it must be done cautiously. What a 
fortunate thing it is that 1 am not troubled with fine 
feeling. For what with my wife, and wiiat with my 
practice, if I had any sensibility, I should have been 
by this time in a receptacle for lunatics. [Exit. 



SCENE U.— Room in the Lin. 
Enter Tap sly. 
Taps. How the deuce has this duel turned out? 
Not a soul is come back yet, and I haven't been able 
to leave the house for a moment. 

i^n.'er Jeremy. 
Ah, sir — very, very happy to see you at the 
Crown and Cushion again! 

Jeremy. Thank yow.— {aside.) I perfectly coin- 
cide with his happiness — Have you seen Mr. O'Dog- 
grely ? 

5* 



V 



54 THE CHANCERY SUIT. {Peake. 

Ta/is. No, sir; what has become of him? No " 
harm happened to him? 

Jeremy, {aside.) Strange where he so suddenly 
vanished ? I thought I heard voices as if in alterca- 
tion, when we left him unceremoniously; but young 
Blazoncourt was so interested, that we walked near- 
ly across the Park without bestowing a thought on 
my excellent second. Very ungrateful of me. 

Enter Ben. 

Ben. Master Tapsly. 

Jeremy. Oh — the rum-and- water guard — what 
does he want? {nvalks u/i.) 

Ben. I want that there chaney bowl of grog! 

Tafis. {nfiart) Did you prevent the fighting? 

Ben. To be sure I did. 

Taps. No body killed? 

Ben. Devil a duck ! 

Tap.i. {/lofnnng- to Jeremy.) And was that the 
gentleman ? 

Ben. No; we've carried the gentleman to the 
cage, and nicely he is singing out. A pretty job we 
had to get him there! 

Tafjs. What ! is it young Squire Blazoncourt 
you've cooj)ed up in the cage? 

Ben. How can ! tell? Cousin Mike, you, and 
Gubbins the beadle, are the only gentlemen I know 
in the place. {lixit. 

Jeremy. It is extraordinary I have not had any vi- 
sit yet from my brother Guy. What was the an- 
swer to my letter? 

Tafis. Mr. Thistlebloom was violently agitated— r^ _^ 
told me to fly, and that he would bring the carriage 
for you — but I'll ask — Mrs. Tapsly, my dear! {calls.) 

Enter Mrs. Tapsly. 
My dear! has Mr. Guy Thistlebloom been here 
since the letter went over to him ? 

Mrs. Talis. No, my love; I sent it over by a very 
careful messenger. 

Tafia. Yes, my sweet, I took it myself. 



Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 55 

Mrs. Taps. You? No, my darling! I tell you, I 
sent it. 

Tafis. But I'll be cursed, my dovey, if I did not 
carry it myself! 

Jcremtj. Very well, very well, good people; it is 
not worth while having any words about it, so as the 
letter i.s delivered. Now let me have something to 
eat. Get me the sole now — a sole — I am fond of a 
sole— 1 feel quite faint and ill ; but I shall be better 
after dinner. [^Exit into roavn. 

Mrs. Tafis. Now, Tapsly, what was the use of ly- 
ing to your lawful wedded wife ? 

Tajis. I lie, Mrs. Tapsly! If you were a man, I'd 
pull your nose. 

Mrs. lajis. You said you carried a letter to Mr. 
Guy rhistlebloom, when I sent it myself by the 
shepherd. 

Tafis. Then there were two letters to go, — that is 
just a woman's short sightedness : I took one, — you 
sent another, I suppose.' 

Mrs. Tups. Oh! why you did not say so at first .^ 
W^ell, my own dear ducky, we'll go and see about 
the fiied soles ; never mind ihe letters — {kisses him.) 
— come ! 

Taps. You persuasive little witch ! lExeunt. 

£n(er GvY Thistlebloom, 7yz7A a le tier in /lis hand. 
Thistle. The exterior of the house exhibits melan- 
choly symbols of mourning — the window-shutters up 
— fatal duel; {Beii tolls without.) Ah! curse your 
mournful iron toi^gue. — {looks at letter.) ** I should 
have been happy to have squeezed my brother by the 
hand — " So should I— so should I. — (reads) — 
'* IVhen you receive this., I shall be no longer in the 
land of the living — " Oh ! Jeremy, Jeremy, always 
headstrong, always rash! Why have you reduced 
me to the necessity (after thirty years* silence) to go 
through the last duty one man can perform to ano- 
ther ^ — how awfully silent the house is ! {bell tolls.) 
Ah ! 



56 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake. 

Enter Ben, with a doivl. 
Bless ray soul ! — who is that ? 

Ben. Ahoy, sir! (drinks. J 
Thistle. You are not the waiter ! 

Ben. No! Mike has got a holiday, so IVe taken 
his watch. 

Thistle. What does he want with his nvatch^ I won- 
der? gone out, and afraid of being robbed, I suppose? 
— Though a stranger here, you are awax'e of the me- 
lancholy affair that has happened? 

Ben. {aside.) He means my old aunt, (to Thistle- 
bloom.) Ay, ay. Master, when our time comes, grim 
Death boards us — every bullet has its billet. — 
(drinks) 

Thistle. Ah ! — where is . . . Whereabouts is the . . . 
— (nvi/ies his eyes.) 

Ben. My wig, how he is affected ! — take a drop. — 
(^offers bowl.) — For the matter of that — if you go up 
aloft into the garret, you'll see the poor old creter — 
if so be you've a fancy that way. 

Thistle. Old creature I dear me — not so old ! some 
years younger than I am, I apprehend ? 

Ben. No, no — I han't heard what the age was rat- 
ed on the books ; but I believe its summut like fore- 
score and twelve ! 

Thistle, Impossible! — Well, show me up to the 
garret. 

Ben. Show you up to the garret ! {aside.) — What 
can he want with poor old aunt ? — mayhap he is the 
Undertaker. I'll ax him. (to Thistle bloom.) — Be you 
come to bury the diseased ? 

Thistle. To be sure I am ! 

Ben. (Aside.) Undertaker, sure enough ! — I'll 
send Muster Tapsly to you. \^Exit' 

Thistle. Poor Jeremy ? we are here to-day, and 
gone to-morroiV ! I have not dared to acquaint my 
sister or Emily of this catastrophe ! Why the deuce 
did he come to life again at all ? 



Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. H7 

Enter Tapsley looking about, 

Tafis. Ben said the undertaker was here, {sees 
Thistlebloom.) — Bless my soul, Squire ! beg pardon 
for not seeing you ; but we are all in confusion. 

Thistle. Ah ! I know, I know — natural enough — 
with a house of mourning! 

Taps. Never mind that» sir — it's nothing to us — 
excepting to show a little decency, or I should not 
have had the coffee-room shutters up. — That need 
not interfere with our good spirits ; it was quite time 
for the poor old thing to hop the twig. Well, 
Squire — {rubbing his hands) — you have come over 
to see your long lost brother.^ 

Thistle. How unfeeling of you, Tapsly ! — Where 
have you put my brother?^ 

Tapsly. He is in the next room ! 

Thistle. I thought he was up-stairs ! 

Tafisly. The chambermaid may have taken him 
up stairs; but I left him in No. 5. 

Thistle. The chambermaid carried him up-stairs 
— impossible ! his figure must have been much re- 
duced in thirty years — how did he look .'' 

Tapsly. Rather pale ; but he v/ill look better af- 
ter dinner. 

Thistle. What! show me instantly where he lies. 

IGoing, 

Tapsly. (stopping him.) I need not trouble you to 
walk up stai,rs, sir; if your brother is not already 
down, he will be down directly. 

Thistle. What— his body I 

Tapsly. Yes — he has ordered his sole in here! 
{points to room.) 

Thistle. If you are not intoxicated, Tapsly, you 
are the m9st irreverent man I ever met. I demand 
a^direct answ^er. Where have you put Mr. Jeremy 
Thistlebloom } 

Tapsly. Ut^re, Squire, here— {bell tolls.) 

{Tafisly throws open folding-doors ^ and discovers 
Jeremy seated at table, with covered dishes before 
, him — lights on the table.) 



58 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IFeake. 

Thist. ( Covers his face with his handkerchief, and, 
afipronches Che door with his head averted — starts 
back.) Jer — Jere — Jeremy ! '^ 

Jeremy, {rising with nafikin.) Guy ! Guy ! 

Thistle. Yes — it is, it is my long lost brother — and 
alive! {they rush into each other^s arms.) 

Jeremy. Alive! — for thirty years I have not felt 
so alive as at this moment. 1 — I have sco-ned the 
thought and ridiculed the idea of tears in a man's 
eye ; but f feel my heart overflowing, {embracea 
Thistlebloom again,) 

Thistle. I thought you were killed in a duel — here 
— see your second letter to n'.e. ( firoduces it. J 

Jeremy. By what accident could that have been 
conveyed to you ? I entrusted it to O'Doggrely. 

Thistle. No matter^ no matter — the shock is over, 
you are living, that is enough ; come home with me, 
and we never part again, till you die in earnest. 
{hugs him.) 

Enter Mrs. Tapsly. 

Mrs. Tafis. Please your Worship, the Beadle is 
below — he saw your Worship's carriage at the door 
— it seems he has got the poor dear Irish gentleman 
a prisoner in the cage. 

Thistle. Why have they put him there? 

Mrs. Tufis. For fighting a duel, I believe, your 
Worship. 

Jeremy, (^laughs.) My second! I suppose they have 
got Murphy too — ha! ha! ha! 

Thistle. Tell them to bring Mr. O'Doggrely here. 

lErii Mrs. Tufisly. 
Then you have been called out, and have risked 
your life.^ 

Jeremy. Yes ; but the risk was not encountered. 
We never had the pistols in our hands. I had a tal^ 
to tell, which quenched the fire of my antagonist-- 
but more of this anon. 

(A noise without — O'Doggrely in altercation.) 

O'Do^' {ll^ithout.) I'll punish every mother's sou 
of ye from the top to the bottom of ye. J| 



Act. IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 59 

' (^Enters^ with straws sticking" about his fiersoii ; 
the Beadle following him.) 

O^Do^ I'll rhvme you for it. (takes out book.) 
" Beadle— Wheedle- Deed ill !" 
'• Constable — Unstable — Dunstable !" 
Brine? me before your dunderheaded country justice: 
and I'll make him tremble in his two armed chair. 

Thistle. Your servant, Mr, O'Doggrely. 

O^Vog. Mr. Thistlebloom, what brings you here? 

Thistle. My duty as a dunderheaded country jus- 
tice—what brought you here ? 

Beadle. I did, your worship, (^bowing. J 

Thistle. Retire. {Exit Beadle. 

O'Dog.. And Mr. Courtington too ! Aren't you a 
pretty principal } forsaking your second in the hour 
of need ! 

Jeremy. Where have you been, Mr. O'Doggrely ^ 

O'Dog. I've been confined ! — been in the straw — 
incarcerated in the cage adjoining the pound, with 
two peep holes — on one side was a crowd of ragged 
boys jibing andjesting, and on the other were a flock, 
of impounded pigs, and a truant donkey, braying 
and grunting — was this a fit situation for an Irish 
gentleman who put his own life in danger lo serve 
his friend? 

Jeremy. How shall I apologise } — I am very sorry. 
I acknowledge my want of thought. — What has be- 
come of Mr Murphy ? 

O'Dog. {chuckles ) Och, murther ! — Murphy was 
in the cage as well as myself — your hand, Mr. Court- 
ington — it wasn't your fault ! 

Thistle. Courtington ! is that your name, Jeremy ? 

Jeremy. It is my London name — but in future, 
O'Doggrely, you will know me as Jeremy Thistle- 
bloom, the brother of our respected Squire, here. 

O'Dog, Brother — what! are you the — 

Jeremy. The ill-looking, cross-grained, caustic 
sort of fellow, who took himself off in a huff, thirty 
years ago — the same: — but haik'ye, most careful se- 
cond, how came ye to' dispatch the letter ? ( Thistle- 
ibloom exhibits it. J 



60 THE CHANCERY SUIT. iPeake,, 



O'Dug. Letter— f/ee/s in his pocket.) Oh ! that 
cursed hole in my pocket ! — 1*11 never put my money 
there again : — but by the powers, Mr. Jeremy ! you 
ought not to have written that posthumous letter till 
after you were dead. 

Jeremy. And you should have taken care it was 
not delivered till that time. 

0*Dog'. Then it would have not gone at ail, you 
know. 

Thistle. Come, come, Jeremy, to your home for 
life ! — your re-appearance filled me with joy — ha I 
ha I ha ! — your disappearance sunk me to the pit of 
despair — I wept — your revivication has now braced 
my spirits up again — I'm tuned up to concert pitch. — 
Brother, brother, don't let me down again, or it will 
be all over with me, — I shall be a woe-begone, mise- 
rable wretch — ^hey for Thistlebloom Hall ! come 
home to the girls, to my sister and Emily come, 
come, (becomes excited — and dances.) 

•* Old King Cole was a jolly old soul — 
Merry be the first of August," &c. &c, 

O* Dog. (sings) " Ife wont go home*till the morn' 
j'ng*." lExeujit 

SCENE III. 

Laivn at Thistlebloom Hall. — Ofien railing and gate 

leading to Road. Part of the House on one side. 

Enter Jenny — {thoughtfully.) 
Jenny. How shall I be able to tell Miss Emily, — 
and yet I must acquaint her — she must hear that her 
own true love is to be killed at once, without having 
it broken to her ; — it will require some care though. 
— {looks off.) Miss Emily is at the -window. — (s/ieaks 
off.) Miss, Miss! please to put on your bonnet and 
shawl, and step down — I .never was in such a quan- 
dary in my life — that is, never since my dear Dicky 
fell down into the well — but we got him out again : 
here she comes, poor thing ! little suspecting what 
news I have for her. 



< 



Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 61 

Enter Emily. 

Mtnily. jenny ! why — why, what is the matter 
with the girl ? speak ! 

Jenny. I ca*— nt, Miss>— Oh dear ! 

Emily, Pray, Jenny, tell me what has occurred ?^— 
how you tremble, child, ! 

Jenny. Oh, Miss Emily! prepare all your courage! 
I was down in the village at old widow Brown's — 
you know the old widow ? 

Emily, {imfiatiently.) Yes, yes. 

Jenny. Her son is a constable : while I was there, 
Mr. Tapsly came ; and I overheard him give an or- 
der for the constable to go in search of Mr. Frede- 
rick Blazoncourt and another gentleman, who were 
gone out to fight a duel ! 

Emily. A duel, Jenny ? what, Frederick ? and have 
they been heard of since ? 

Jenny. The officers brought back Mr. O'Duggre- 
ly in custody, as he was connected with it somehow ; 
but Mr. Frederick and the stranger escaped their 
notice, and where left to battle it out in the Shrub- 
bery ! 

Emily. And his life is in danger ! Let me fly to 
prevent, to preserve him from harm, to dash away 
the murderous weapon levelled at his breast, and 
prove my devotion, my everlasting affection. 

{Snore a/i/ieara with the Sheriff's Queers out- 
side the railitig-^fioints to Emily.) 

Emiyl. Yes, I am determined — Jenny let us hasten 
to the Shrubbery. 

Jenny » Go, Miss ! — why we shall hear the pistols 
fired off. 

Emily. We may be in time to interrupt the dread- 
ful meeting. — Come, my good girl— (cs they turn to 
the gate. Snare and the Officers conceal themselves ) 
—There is not a moment for thought—Oh ! Frede- 
rick, Frederick, what false notion of honour could 
have prevailed an you to risk on existence which is 
•0 precious to all who know you ? 

6 lExeunt Emily and Jenny. 



2. THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Feake. 

Snark and Officers re-a/i/iear. 
Snare. Egad ! this is lucky — they are gone towards 
the Shrubbery, and are unprotected — Where is the 
post chaise ? 

Oiicer. Just beyond the trees, there, {fioints.) 
Snare. Let Miss Travers proceed as far from this 
house as possible. You will arrest her — carry her 
into the chaise, and drive off rapidly on the London 
road.—Stay, we must not be observed here, run like 
plovers. [Excune. 

SCENE IV. —Road adjoining- the Shrubbery —En- 
ter Frederick, followed by Winterfield and 
tivo GainekeeJierSy with guns. 

Fred' {to Gamekeepers.) Return across the Pre- 
serve to the Castle, kill a brace of pheasants, I 
have made a promise to Mrs. Snare. 

{Exeunt Gamekeepers, 
— (to Winterjield.) Winterfield, I have dispatched 
the gamekeepers, that we may speak in private. — 
To answer my questions, you must endeavour to re- 
call your memory. — Do you remember Colonel Tra- 
vers j* 

Jf inter. Let me see Colonel Travers, say you ? 

(shakes his head.) No! 

Fred' Ah ! (aside) There is a way of extricating 
the truth from his treacherous recollection, which I 
have practised with old Winterfield when 1 was a 
boy. — Cto Winterjield) He was not married I be- 
lieve. 

H inter. I cannot charge my memory, whether the 
Colonel was married or single ! 

Fred. So ! (apart J By applying negatives, I per- 
ceive I stand the belter chance of obtaining an af- 
firmative. You never were at a wedding .•* 

Hinter. Oh yes, sir. — I was at my own — I believe. 

Fred. Pshaw! I mean, that you never attended any 
other marriage ceremony than your own, in our 
village church .•* 



Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 63 

If inter. Yes, but I did— there was a fine to do, 
when the Colonel carried his lady to church. 

J^Ved. What Colonel, my good friend ? 

Winter, Colonel Travers — (I told you so just now) 
— 1 remember he presented me with five guineas 
and a pair of white gloves, and I signed my name as 
a witness of the marriage in the church book. 

Fred. Ah ! are you positive of that ? 

IVinter. As well as I can recollect. 

Fred. Do you remember the maiden name of the 
lady to whom the Colonel was united? 

llinter. Oh! that is quite beyond my poor head 
now. 

Fred. It was not the daughter of lady Wood- 
burn } 

Winter. Why do you say she was not the daughter 
of Lady Woodburn ; I tell you that Mrs. Colonel 
Travers nvas the daughter of Lady Woodburn ; that 
she was — my memory is only bad, when in the pre- 
sence of Sir Bernard — he frights it all away. 

Fred. Had the Colonel and Mrs. Travers any chil- 
dren .»* 

Winter. At this distance of time it is impossible 
for me to say. 

Fred. Happy are the parents who are not child- 
less ! 

If inter. But they had a child — a pretty little dark- 
b aired girl ! 

Fred. Indeed! — then no one knew by what name 
that child was christened — I believe, the child was 
not christened .** 

Winter. It was though, — I saw it christened. Mrs. 
Colonel Travers gave me two guineas, and a half-a- 
dozen of Maderia, to drink the health of little Miss 
Emily. I ought to rem.ember — but they are all 
gone — gone — the Colouel was killed in Spain. Mrs. 
Travers died of a broken heart, and the child I saw 
christened died too. 

Fred.. Who told you that > 

Winter. Sir Bernard, Sir Bernard. — I think he 
said the Colonel left a natural daughter- 



64 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [P^ke, 

Fred. I will not detain you any longer, Winter- 
field, — but be in the way in the Ca&tle, if I should 
require you to repeat that which you have now told 
me. 

Winter, I have told you nothing ; but I shall be 
frightened to death, if Sir Bernard is present, and 
forget all, he is so stern — I think I remember when 
he used to be a pleasanter gentleman to one than he 
is now. \^ExU. 

Fred, If it be true then, and Emily was not born 
illegitimate, how grievously has she been wronged 
of her inheritance ! Yes, I will go to Sir Bernard, 
and insist on an immediate and public refutation of 
Mr. Courtington*s charge ! The task is heavy, but 
the ties of kindred, or the reverential love due even 
to a Father must never prevail over the sacred feel- 
ings of justice or of honor. [jEx/r.^ 

Enter Jenny and Emily. 

Jenny. This — this is the Shrubbery, Miss. 

Emily. Hush ! speak low. 

Jenny- {apart,) Oh, I hope they won't shoot^ 
while we are here, the bullets may come this way- 

Emily, How my heart throbs ! — footsteps.— Yes, 
it must be Frederick and his adversary.— Jenny, en- 
ter the copse, and listen if you hear voices. {Jenntf 
goes up. cautiously y and disappears.) He may — he 
will upbraid me for this unwarrantable intrusion, 
but I will bear his reproaches meekly ! Ah Frede- 
rick, Frederick ! {Enter the Sheriff's Oncers.) 
Strangers so near me! 

Officer. Sarvant, young lady ! your name is Miss 
Emily Travers i 

Emily. It is — Pray have you seen young Mr. 
Blazoncourt in your way i* 

Officer. No, Miss, he is not in my way ; I have a 
little bit of business with you, if you please. Miss 
Emily Travers, you are my prisoner, and must go 
with me to London to the Fleet, by virtue of this 
attachment. {Jirodnces it.) 



Act IV.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 65 

Emily. Mercy ! — Impossible — and at such a mo- 
ment! unhand me fellow ! (Two distinct re/iorts of 
Jire-arms without. Emily shrieks, and falls in an at- 
titude of firayer.) Oh ! horrible, they have dis- 
charged their pistols. Frederick is wounded, per- 
haps killed — Oh, moment of agony ! — 

Re-ente7'JE'KMY, rutming. 

Jenny Oh Miss, did vou hear the two gentlemen 
fire > 

Emily. Has he fallen ? 

Jenny. I can't say. Miss: when I heard the pis- 
tols 1^0 off, I ran back as fast as I could. 

Officer, {taking' Emily by the wrist. J Come, come, 
young lady, you must just step into the chaise 
yonder. 

Emily. Nay, do not drag me, sir — Jenny hasten to 
the Hall, say they are carrying me off — fly! 

Jenny. O Miss, I cannot leave you thus. 

Emily. Your rapidity is the only chance for my 
safety. 

Jenny. Oh, you horrid wretches! 

[Ejcit Jenny y hastily, 

Oifcer. Come ! 

Emily. Stay, stay — one moment — here is money : 
suffer me to cross the Shrubbery, this purse is yours. 

Officer, I know my business better than that — 
come, or I must use force, so it were best you went 
quietly at once- {struggling.) 

Emily. Help! help! will no one aid the unfortu- 
nate? — I sink — I faint, 

{Erederick rushes on — throws the Officer -violent- 
ly from Emily ^ whom he sufifiorts — she 
sxvoons iji his arms.) 

Fred. Scoundrel ! what means this infamous con- 
duct ? 

O^cer. It means that you are obstructing an offi- 
:r in the performance of his duty. 

'^sed. Officer! Who is vour employer ? 
6* 



66 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Feake. 

Officer. The Sheriff of the county, {apfiroaching.) 
Fred. Dare to come near her, and I will dash you 
to the earth — Revive — revive, dear Emily! it is a 
friend supports you ; fear no harm, you are safe. 

Emily. Frederick — Frederick ! but you are 
wounded! 

( Rafiidty glances at him^ and fiasses her hand 
over his forehead and arm.) 
Fred. Wounded, Emily ! — No. 
Emily. The rumour of the duel — the recent dis- 
charge of fire arms — 

Fred. The duel was happily prevented — the re- 
ports you heard just now proceeded from the guns 
of my gamekeepers : permii me, my dear Emily, to 
escort you in safety home, 

Officer. This won't do, sir, this here's a rescue — 
the lady goes with me. — Jem, keep the gemman off. 
Fred. At your peril. — I will be answerable for 
the appearance of Miss Travers. (The Sherijff'^s 
Officer struggles with Frederick, nvhen O* Doggrely 
enters with a cudgel and strikes him down. J 

O'Dog. There's a penn'orth of Siielalagh for you. 

Enter Snare, (at the back.) 
Snare. Eh! how! here's a new case — assault and 
battery. 

O'Dog. Another and another succeed, like their 
Majesties in Macbeth. *' Out damned spot !" — 
(drives oJ[f the other Officer — sees Snare.) Och ! stay, 
my dear boy — taste my stick liquorice. (Snare ru?is 
q/7')Hulloloo ! Mr. Snare runs like a hare — and you 
my catchpole friend, never begin that of which you 
have never well considered the end. — (/luts his fool 
on the Sheriff's Officer. J " Pardon me, thou bleeding 
piece of earth, that 1 am meek and gentle," and 
good-day to you.— Come Miss. Exeunt. 



, ,^END OF ACT IV. 

L.of C. 



d 



Act v.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 67 

ACT V. 

SCENE I Parlour at Thistlebloom Hall. 

Enter Thistlebloom and Jeremy. 

Thistle. But sit down, sit still for half an hour. 
Jeremy. I can't sit still at present. 

Thistle. No more can I — I am all excitement- 
Jeremy, you are my junior, you young dog! — how 
dare yon play your relations such a trick •* — but ha ! 
ha ! ha ! I am devilish glad to hold you in my arms 
again. {Embraces ) 

Jeremy. That is the forty-first embrace I have 
had within the last half hour. I have business 
down here too. 

Thistle. Business! — a fig for business I I won't 
allow it. I will have nothing but a round of plea- 
sure for the next twelvemonth — feasting and merri- 
snent. I'll portion, the maids — I'll give away fat 
ewes and pretty spinsters — I'll marry all the men — 
girls, I mean — I'll go round, and kiss all the old wo- 
men in the parish. 

Jeremy. But still my business must be attended to. 

Thistle. It shan't. 

Jeremy. Then my pleasure must be attended to. 

Thistle. It shall : what is it ? 

Jeremy. To replace the wronged Emily Travers 
in the inheritance of her forefathers. 

Thistle, {anjciously ) And is there a possibility.^ 

Jeremy. No, but there is a certainty. 

Thistle, {elated ) Are you positive .»* 

Jeremy. Sure. 

Thistle. Did you ever see me jump over a table .^ 

Jeremy. Not for these forty years. 

Thistle. Here goes, [runs, but is stopt by Teremy.") 

Jeremy. Be cool ; {struggling and holding him) — 



VU break your limbs. 



"Ihistle. Just let me deliver a short, quiet message 
kt of this window. 



68 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peake^ 

Jeremy Well, well ! (they go to the window — Jere. 
holds hiinj You shall not throw yourself out, with 
your excitement. 

Thistle. I am tranquil, placid.— What I have to 
say out of this window is perfectly calm and reason- 
able, {vociferates Loudly) Jenkins! Whipper In! 
Yoicks! bring all the fox-hounds up into the draw- 
ing room. 

Jeremy. Mercy on us ! 

Enter Mrs. Post. 

Mrs, Post. Heyday! what is the meaning of this 
disburbance? A stange gentleman ! (curtsies formal 
ly) Pray may I presume to enquire — ? 

Thistle. Yes, Miss Tliistlebloom, otherwise, the 
Widow Post, you may enquire, and I will explain. 
Allow me to explain clearly — explicitly. The fact 
is, extraordinary affair — lapse of years — wonderful 
intervention-— cheering occurrence, — like exhuming 
the dead ! We'll dance all night, set the bells ring- 
ing, blaze a bonfire : for we have turned up Pam — 
turned up Pam — (he flushes Jeremy towards Mrs, 
Post) Pam ! 

Mrs. Post. Pam ? 

Thistle. Yes; take that young dog to your arms. 
What, refuse? then I will. ( hugs Jeremy .J 

Jeremy. Forty -two! 

Thistle. You hai-d-hearted, fat old relic, here's 
your long-lost brother Jeremy, whom we all thought 
defunct ; kiss him, kiss him I 

Mrs. Post. Jeremy Thistlebloom ! can it be ! (fiuts 
on sfiectacles) It is, it is! (they embrace — Thistle- 
bloom hugs them both) 

Jeremy. Forty-three! 

Mrs. Post. Bless me, brother Jeremy, hovv you 
are altered ! you used to be uncommonly handsome,^ 

Jeremy. I fear the law has had some effect on lii] 
countenance. 

Thistle. Used to be uncommonly handsome ! 
ha! ha! We were all pretty once. I reni 



Act v.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 69 

sister, when you were pretty. Don't I recollect 
when you resembled the picture — the portrait paint- 
ed at eighteen ? the hair powdered, a long waisted 
white satin negligee, a grey parrot on your thumb, 
with a cherry in its beak ? Don't I remember when 
you were handsome? Ha! ha! ha! nothing shall 
■ever make me melancholy again, no power on earth. 

Jenny runs iti, 

Jenny, Oh! master, master, master! 

Thistle. What now madcap ? 

Jenny. yihsKmWyl 

Thistle. What of my darling? 

Jenny. She walked our — shrubbery — ill-looking 
man — taken her prisoner — parchment — postchaise ! 

Thistle {mournfully) They are conveying her to 
the Fleet ! I am a miserable old wretch again ! 

Jeremy, The arrest is illegal ; we will punish the 
offenders. 

Mrs. Post. But what will recompense poor Emily, 
for her horror and alarm ? Go, brother, in pursuit. 

Thistle. Yes, yes — I was absorbed — Jenkins — sad- 
dle Thunderbolt, give me my horse pistols — Miss 
Emily is kidnapped. Oh, ho! oh, ho! yoicks! 

{^£jcit, running; 

Mrs. Post. This dear and amiable girl is the vic- 
tim of vicissitude! 

Jeremy. Her anxieties will not be of long duration. 
A few days shall replace her father's estate in her 
possession, and a few days, if she objects not, shall 
.unite her to the man of her heart. 

Thistle, {without) Yoicks, yoicks, yoicks! 

Voices, (without) Huzza, huz;^a! — Miss Emily— 
tiuzza! 

Enter Thistlebloom, in high glee, leading on 

Emily. 

jktThistle. She is recovered; her gallant deliverer 

^aWd her in my hands, and has returned to the 

Oa^iJfc avoid our thanks. Frederick is a noble feL 



1 



70 THE CHANCERY SUIT. IPeake. 

Emily. Yes, he is indeed noble, — noble in mind, 
generous in heart, and ever the friend to the unfor- 
tunate. 

Jenny, Did Mr. Frederick rescue you, miss? {fiuts 
her afiron to her eyes) I can't help it, I can't help it; 
but goodness bless him! 

Thistle. Mr. Blazoncourt requests, that when Emi- 
ly has recovered her late alarm, we should all go 
over to the Castle. There is a matter of importance 
immediately to be explained, and he particularly 
requires your assistance, Jeremy. 

Jeremy. Without it, the explanation would be use- 
less. Come, and prepare yourselves for an edifying 
sight. You shall see a proud sinner tremble. [Exit. 

Thistle. My own Y\X.X\q p.ortegee returned in safety: 
I am again in an ecstacy of bliss, {kisses he?-) Sister, 
I am so rejoiced, (kisses Mrs. Post, and puts them 
oj;, turns and looks at Jemiy) Jenny, girl, you 
brought the first intelligence, (kisses Jenny) There's a ^ 
kiss for you, — and here, something more pleasant, 
from an elderly gentleman, (gives money, and runs 
oj^ with her, singing) " Youth's the season made for 
joy," &c. 

SCENE THE L^ST.— Library at Blazoncourt 

Castle. 

Sir Bernard discovered at table ^ — (A box of pa' 
pers. 
Sir Ber. The last fond hope of my ambition, the 
elevation of my son, is destroyed by his own agency, ■ 
His mind is noble; it is I who am the the degraded 
the self accused, miserable being. Policy woulc, 
say, consent to Frederick's union vvith Emily Tra 
vers, but Pride forbids the match, (looks at the box 
Cannot I suppress the damning fraud .-* (takes out i 
fiaper) Destroy this document, this accursed dopd 



Woodburn property in the Court of •5'*^^|j|^T 
long. Once destroyed, my heart would be^ghtt 
I'll give up my claim (such as it is) t(;)jj.^the estat 



Act V.J THE CHANCERY SUIT. 71 

and permit Frederick to lead Emily to the altar. — I 
am tempted — a secret pleasurable feeling, unknown 
to me for years, pervades ; it is but tearing this, and 
— \_a knock at the door) Ha! who is there? {Jias.ily 
refi la ces the fiafier,) 

Fred. Your son, sir. 

Sir Ber. Come in. 

Enter Frederick. 

Fred. Pardon, sir, my intrusion — lam come to 
complain of an act of gross injustice. The zeal of 
your agents. I hope, has exceeded the limit of their 
directions — Miss Travers, already too much perse- 
cuted, has been insulted, arrested, and it appears, 
under your cognizance. 

Sir Ber. And what right have you to interfere with 
a matter of legal form ? 

Fred. Right, I had none : but I rescued her from 
the hands of the ruffian who was employed. 

Sir Ber. How dared you to 

Fred, Circumstances, sir, have made me acquaint- 
ed with certain facts 

Sir Ber, "Which you have confided to your worthy 
Irish associate. 

Fred. Never. — Forgive me, father, for pressing 
he matter deeply — your honour — the honour of the 
amily demands an immediate and strict investiga- 
.ion of your claims to the Woodburn Estate ? 

Sir Ber. My pride forbids dictation. Sir. 

Fred. My confidence in your rectitude has induced 
ne to anticipate you in proposing proudly to vindi- 
;ate your character, and I have promised that, in 
';he presence of the Thistlebloom family, you will 
permit a document in your possession (signed by the 
late Colonel Travers) to be examined. 
1 Sir Ber. Ha! 

red. I have appointed Mr. Thistlebloom, Miss 
^ and a legal friend to meet me here. 
"^ '^ilHb^^u have been hasty, sir. 



72 THE CHANCERY SUIT. {Peake 

Fred. The more rapidly a spot is erased^ the less 
likely is it to leave a stain. 

Sir Ber. I will meet them—confront me with my 
accusers ! 

Fred. To prove yourself triumphant, my father ! 
I will introduce them now, \_ExU. 

Sir Ber. The paper has passed the scrutiny of an 
open court — is recorded as a valid instrument — obli- 
vion has sealed the mouths of the witnesses of the 
marriage — I am secure— proudly secure — they come! 

Re-enter Frederick, leading Emily, Thistle- 
Bloom, Mrs. Post, and Jeremy. 
{Sir Bernard bows coldly.) 

Thistle. Your servant. Sir Bernard, your servant? 
— it is many a year since I have been under your 
roof. — My sister, sir, (introducing) — a little the 
worse for wear — my ward, Miss Emily Travers — 
and this is my brother, Mr. Jeremy Thistlebloom. 

Sir Ber, Your delicacy, I think, should have ex- 
cused Miss Travers* presence in the elucidation of a 
matter which cannot fail to be perplexing to her feel- 
ings. 

Fred. Miss Travers, sir, is too deeply interested 
in the result of the investigation to be absent. 

Sir Ber. Which I beg may instantly commence. 
Cecils off) Desire Mr. Snare to attend me. 

Thistle. Mr. Snare! Well, it is lucky I have brought 
my legal adviser with me. (to Sir Ber) My brother, 
sir, is one of the long robe and double-tailed wig 
tribe. Jeremy, I put the cause into your hands. 

Enter Snare, bowing — sees Emily and Mrs. Post. 
Is embarrassed — bows sheefiiahly to iheniy and take» 
his filace at the table. ** ' 

Jeremy. Sir Bernard, with permission, I wish '^ 
ask a question of an ancient servant of yours, ' 
Winteraeld. 

Sir Ber. Ha! {aside) It is safe. H^ 
%oiie,'^{8fieaks off) Let Winterfield b< 



Act II.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 75 

now. Sirs, to shorten the affair, behold that instru- 
ment. 

[ Snare hands a fiafier Jrotn the box to Jeremy. '\ 

Snare. That, sir, is the document duly attested, 
first having been executed by the within named 
Godfrey Hu^h Travers, declaring that his daughter 
Emily was not the offspring of lawful wedlock, <Sic. 
&c. &c. &c. 

Jeremy, {with a sneer) Thank you, sir, I have 
seen that paper before. 

Enter Winterfield. 

Winter, {aftart) Good gracious! what can they 
want with me ? I am all in a twitter. 

Snare. Mr. Winterfield is in court. 

liinter. How alarming! 

Jeremy. Mr. Winterfield, you were, I believe, 
at the wedding of Colonel Travers } 

Winter. Not that I remember. I am old — my me- 
mory is crazed. 

Jeremy. Come, come, my good man, you must re- 
collect that event ? 

IPinter. {with a vacant look) I should be happy 
to remember any thing, — but it is all gone here— 
C touches his head J — gone ! — gone ! 

Fred, (aside) Confusion ! How treacherous! 

Snore. Hark ye, Mr. Winterfield!* Do you think 
you should know the hand writing of Colonel Tra- 
vers, if you saw it ? The Colonel was in the habit of 
franking letters for you. 

Winter. Was he ! — very good of him, if he did ! 

Sir Der, {sternly) Look at the signature of that 
paper. See if you recollect it- 

Winter, {tremblingly puts on spectacles, and look* 
attentively) Ye — yes. I think 1 should say that that 
the handwriting of the Colonel. 

father's honour will be cleared, 

se fails: — they cannot prove 

t h at sh< ' 

ThlsiW^ff^Sff^ifigly to Mrs Post) We had bet- 
■" 7 




74 THE CHANCERY SUIT. [Peakr. 

ter have stopped at home, sister. Never mind, Emi- 
ly, we shall ever protect you ! 

Sir Ber. Are your unjust suspicions now satisfied ? 

Jeremy. Sir Bernard, your pardon! Ladies and 
gentlemen, I have to apologise, and to beg that you 
will, lor a few moments, retire to the inner library. 
Sir Bernard will grant me a brief private conversa- 
tion. {Sir Bernard hows.) 

[^Exeunt all but Sir Bernard and Jeremy, Snare 
lingers^ mending a fien, 

Jeremy. We can dispense with your attendance, 
Sir. 

Snare. Oh ! [Exit. 

C Jeremy shuts the Library door. J 

Sir Ber. How, Sir ! do you not consider this evi- 
dence conclusive ? 

Jeremy. No — the document is forged — the signa- 
ture is forgery. 

Sir Ber. You will find that difficult to prove, sir. 

Jeremy. You knew a person named Mandeville ? 

Sir Ber. (starts) What of Mandeville ? 

Jeremy. He is no more. 

Sir Ber. (aside) I breathe again. 

Jeremy. On his death -bed, he confessed to having 
forged this instrument — his last words are here, pro- 
perly attested. (Jiulls p-afiers from his bosom.) 

Sir Ber. All- all delusive! — Mandeville lived and 
died a villain. I will resist this conspiracy to defraud 
me of my just claims to the Woodworth Estate. — If 
you can produce no better evidence than the ravings 
of a dying felon, recall your company — ^^I hurl defi- 
ance at you — quit my house ! 

Jeremy. Hold, Sir Bernard ! It is the admiration 
of the noble character of your son, that induces me 
not to scar his heart with your branded guilt* be- 
hold this boasted document! it may, supported^ 
perjury, have passed as valid^al^^urt of ' 
but behold, sir, unless you ar5|MH||nd- 
ought to be, the written date is 179^ observe i 




Act v.] THE CHANCERY SUIT. 75 

Sir Ber. That was the period when it was execu- 
ted by Colonel Travers. 

Jeremy. Sir Bernard, you avow that this instru- 
ment was written and signed in 1798 ; again look at 
it ; — up to the light — see — the sheet of paper itself 
was not manufactured until 1803 ; thanks to the wo- 
ven mark, with the makers name! — What say you 
now, sir? — shall I recall Mr. Snare as an evidence of 
this fact ? 

Sir Ber. Curses !— I am ruined— do not expose me 
— I — I will relinquish all. 

Jeremy. That I permit you to escape from other 
infliction than that of your own conscience, is attri- 
butable to your excellent son. I will not injure the 
happiness of Frederick Blazoncourt by pursuing his 
father with the merited rigour of justice ! You are 
in my power, and this document is ample proof a- 
gainst you. There is but one way to purchase my 
secrecy —immediately to consent to the union of your 
son to Emily Travers — and in the presence of cor 
friends to destroy this fatal paper. 

Sir Ber. I am fallen in the toil, sir. 

Jeremy^ A toil prepared by yourself, (goea to the 
door J — Mr. Blazoncourt, come in, sir, with your 
fair charge ! 

Enter Frederick, Emily, Thistleloom, Mrs. 

Post, Snark, and O'Doggrely. 
Ladies and Gentlemen, congratulate me ; my argu- 
ments have been unanswerable, and I have prevail- 
ed. Sir Bernard is now convinced that Miss Tra* 
vers is the rightful heiress of the Woodburn proper- 
ty. In renouncing his claim, he destroys that ob- 
noxious document. i^Sir Bernard tears the fiufier) 
Snare. What are you about. Sir ^ 
^^^^emy. Doing the wisest thing in his power, Mr, 

^^^W^. Be-q^PpM k e ; its only a tear. 

A Jeremy. The n.ejjt^^^Bkf Sir Bernard's policy and 



II 




feeling will b^^^Hpn the presence of assem- 



76 THE CHANCERY SUIT. lPeak4 

bled friends, he gives his unqualified consent to the! 
marriage of his son with Emily Travers. — Sir Ber-i 
nard, they are worthy of each other. {Jeiemy leadi^ 
them to Sir Bertiardy ivho joins their hands,) 

Fred. This kindness is unlooked for — thanks,;] 
blessings on you, my father! {presents Emily to Srr\ 
Bernard.) \ 

Thistle. Why, Jeremy, you young dog! I havel 
been endeavouring to settle this for llie last eighteen; 
years. | 

Jeremy, Endeavouring — no, you have been trying] 
it. I have arranged it out of Court. 

Thistle. Now, if ever I am miserable again agam,i 
may I be — — 

Mrs. Post, (stops his mouth) Married ! — Mr. 
Snare, have you commenced that little legal affair 
for me ? 

Snare. Why I found the defendant, Mrs. Snare, 
a very awkward person to deal with. 
Mrs, Post. To deal with, so did 1. 
Sna.e. I am afraid, instead af commencing an ac- 
tion, I must call in the authority of the principal of 
the Home department. 

Fred. Emily mine, and established in her rights! 
Happiness will indeed be our portion, if we should 
now obtain the smiles and suffrages of surrouiiding 
friends. Proof that our humble efforts have deserv 
ed commendation ; — and thus ends the Chancery 
Suit. 

0*Dog. (taki7ig- out his book^ and advancinc^ to ifu 
Audience,) 

" The Verdict given in this Cause, 

ril venture to record with great applause. 

Yes, and as we meet with no denial, 

i beg- to move, my l.ud — AioTHEK Tbial !'* vt". 



THK 



LIBRARY 




